


The Doctor Thief and the Prince of Vesuvia

by bettiqua



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Drama & Romance, Happy Ending, Heists, Humor, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Swordplay, it’s canonverse but there are a few key differences (that will be noted in the author’s notes), lots of canon parallels (try and catch them all!!), male apprentice but no name is given, the fic is in second person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-01 22:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17252651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettiqua/pseuds/bettiqua
Summary: "You are the Prince of Vesuvia, and you know almost everything there is to know about it…despite never having seen it in your entire life."After being cooped up in the palace for so much of his life, the Prince of Vesuvia sneaks out for a day on the town. Entirely by chance, he meets Julian Devorak—resident doctor and would-be thief of the people. Following their fateful meeting, the two are swept into a story full of political intrigue, dramatic irony, displays of the power of friendship, and a love that will redeem them both!





	1. Ⅰ - The Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fool, innocent and unknowing, seeks to begin a journey on his own, one full of optimism and freedom from the constraints of his normal life. Anything can happen, and there are countless opportunities in the world, waiting to be found and cultivated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to establish some changes!
> 
> 1\. Lucio never took over as the Count of Vesuvia. The Apprentice's parents are the Count and Countess, meaning the Apprentice is now the Prince.  
> 2\. Lucio and Nadia are instead courtiers; Lucio is Quaester and Nadia is Praetor. Don't ask where Vlastomil and Valdemar are. Just don't worry about it.  
> 3\. The Red Plague never happened.  
> 4\. There are some other changes but...they're spoilers! ;^) These are the most important, anyway.

You are the Prince of Vesuvia. Your parents are the Countess and Count, and you have never wanted for anything for as long as you can remember. When you’d reached the age of eight, you were given tutors and mentors, all teaching you the arts (of the martial, visual, and musical varieties), sciences, several languages, economics, and everything you would need to know to one day become Count.

Vesuvia is a port city, with two primary docks; the East Docks and the Ash Docks in the northeast. The city is rich with fish and game alike, the latter bountiful in the forest not far from the city walls. There is also an island just off the coast with no real name; its only buildings are a lighthouse and a sturdy, though unappealing, lodge that serves as a temporary respite for fishermen who couldn’t make it to Vesuvia proper in time to avoid storms during monsoon season.

Vesuvia is made up of several districts outside of the palace. The Heart District, closest to the palace, is the most beautiful, commonly frequented by the wealthy. The Temple District is filled with different temples to the various gods that Vesuvian citizens worship. Center City contains the most shops, the highest density of them being the Center City Marketplace. Goldgrave is the most culturally-based; ranging from a museum to a theater, to a coliseum and statues of many previous rulers.

The Flooded District… Well, your tutors never talked that much about the Flooded District. And South End, as far as you’ve been able to discover from eavesdropping on council meetings, is populated to several establishments of “ill repute”; shops taverns that cater to the likes of pirates, criminals, and some of the rowdier sailors and fishermen. To you, the Flooded District and South End sounded more like places home to people who have been abandoned by the sovereignty. (When you become Count, you frequently tell yourself, you’ll do your people justly.)

You are the Prince of Vesuvia, and you know almost everything there is to know about it…despite never having seen it in your entire life.

 

* * *

 

 “Good morning, milord!” Portia greets you as she pulls the curtains open. You were already awake, but your eyes burn from the sudden light. You groan and yank the covers over your eyes.

Portia doesn’t pay you much mind, and continues, shuffling over to your hamper to collect the previous day’s clothes, “Luckily, your schedule today isn’t very busy! First, you have a magic lesson with the Court Magician—well, your aunt is apparently pretty busy today, so she’ll probably just ask Asra to take over. Again,” she adds with a chuckle. “After that, you have some martial training with Muriel. And then you’re free for the rest of the day!”

You sigh, and finally sit up, filtering some of the sunlight with a hand so you you can adjust. Honestly, considering yesterday’s schedule, it’s quite light. You wonder if your parents are being nice, or if your other tutors just have other things to do. Probably the latter, you think with a grimace.

As you get out of bed and head towards your changing screen to get dressed and ready for the day, you wonder what kind of magic Asra will teach you this time. It’s quite possibly the only subject you actually enjoy; of course, who wouldn’t be excited to learn magic? You’ve only recently been starting to learn serious spells, and you always end up feeling your energy drained by the end of the lesson. The last time, he taught you how to raise a multi-directional shield and you almost felt like you’d never be able to cast another spell again.

“All right, I’m off!” Portia says, holding her wicker basket of clothes against her hip. “I’ll see you around lunch time, okay?”

“Sure,” you say, clipping your last button. “Thanks for everything, Portia.”

“Of course,” she says, grinning.

Once she leaves, you run a hand through your hair to put into some semblance of order. Then you make your way to the Observatory. It takes some time to reach it, as it’s in one of the tallest towers of the palace, but it’s certainly worth the climb. It has a giant glass window spanning most of the ceiling, and it’s beautiful come nighttime. There are also huge star charts and plenty of magical tomes, ordered perfectly in bookshelves as well as piled helter-skelter on the center table. It also smells amazing; both from the incense that is frequently burned, as well as from the entire wall full of drawers and shelves of glasses all containing various magical herbs and oils.

It’s probably one of the most relaxing rooms in the palace. Sometimes you wish you could just live as a magician, only doing tarot readings and selling magic items… Unfortunately, you have bigger responsibilities.

“You’re a little late today, Your Grace,” you hear as you enter the Observatory. Asra smiles at from the center of the room, leaning against the large center table. You wish he’d stop calling you that, but you’ve given up trying to get him to stop. Sometimes you wonder if he just does it to tease you, because you know he doesn’t normally stick to such formalities.

“I had a long day yesterday,” you say, stretching to get the kinks out of your back. You’d spent so long hunched over your desk that you feel like it’ll never recover…

Asra laughs and says, “That’s unfortunate.” Then he straightens up and walks to the wall of magical components, opening several drawers to find something. “But today, your aunt said I could teach something really fun.” When he finds what he’s looking for with a little, ‘ _aha_!’, he turns towards you, and you’re both nervous and excited when you see the mischievous gleam in his eye.

“What is it?” you ask, unable to keep the curiosity from your voice. He sets the small glass jar on the table. It’s mostly full of something that looks like…well, it honestly just looks like a jar of dirt.

“It’s a glamouring spell,” he starts. While he talks, he walks to the other side of the room where a stack of rich purple cushions sit, “You can use it to disguise someone, make them look like someone or something their not. Of course…” as he drops two pillows on the floor between the two of you, he looks at you meaningfully, “the spell can also be cast on yourself.”

You gasp, eyes going wide. You know exactly what Asra’s getting at. He’s always known about your desire to see Vesuvia for yourself; he and Portia are the only ones you feel comfortable talking to about it. Your parents, while well-meaning, are also slightly paranoid. They’ve never let you outside the palace since the day you were born, and haven’t even publicly given your name. When you were young, and hardly knew the first thing about the city you live in, you didn’t have a care in the world. But the more you were taught, the more you learned about it, there soon became nothing you wanted more than to see Vesuvia for yourself. Who knew what kind of amazing things are out there? What does the energy of the Center City Marketplace feel like? How good are the plays at the theater? How beautiful do the canals look glittering in the sunlight?

And now Asra is giving you a chance to find those answers. A way to adventure into the great unknown, a chance to experience Vesuvia firsthand. For a moment, the possibilities almost overwhelm you, but then you can’t stop a huge grin spreading on your face.

“Asra, I… Thank you,” is all you can manage to say, but it doesn’t feel like enough. So instead of trying to express yourself with words, you take the few steps required to hug him. He stiffens for just a moment before hugging you back with a small laugh.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, voice completely insincere, “I’m only doing my duty.”

You snicker, “Of course.” You finally step away from him and take a seat on one of the cushions as he sits on the one opposite you. “So, how do you cast a glamour?”

“For as much energy as this spell takes to maintain, it’s relatively easy to cast it.” He reaches up to the table to grab the jar, twists the cork off, and places it on the floor between you. Whatever it is doesn’t have much of a smell.

“The first step is call up your magic. Then, focus on what you want the target to look like, and…” He reaches into the jar, takes a pinch of the contents, and blows it on you. The dust glitters unnaturally, and tingles everywhere it touches your skin.

You don’t particularly… _feel_ any different, but then Asra pulls a small mirror from his pocket. When you look into it, it’s not your face you see, but the familiar face of your bodyguard’s, Muriel. Your look of almost comic surprise looks very foreign on the man’s usually stoic face, and you try to emulate it, but then you can’t help but laugh when you fail miserably.

Asra also laughs, “I’ll be honest, I don’t think you’d make a very good Muriel.” You see yourself return to your normal, and you look at him with surprise.

“Does it normally only last for that long? Also, what is this?” you ask, pointing at the jar.

He shakes his head, “It lasts for as long as you want it to, as long as you can maintain it. I let it fall on purpose. Also,” he smiles, “it’s just dirt.” You knew it. “Now,” he places the mirror on the floor beside him and lets his hands rest in his lap, “go ahead and try it on me.”

You take a deep breath and concentrate. As normal, your magic rises up inside you like steam. You wonder who you should make him look like… You snort as a certain individual comes to mind, and reach into the jar, taking a little bit of the dirt in your hand. You solidify the image in your mind, and blow, imbuing the breath with your magic. The dust glitters as it did when he did it, and coats Asra’s person. It takes a moment, but a different person shimmers into view. It worked; Asra looks at you placidly with the shock of blond hair, the furred cloak, and bright red clothing of Quaestor Lucio. Such a calm, relaxed expression doesn’t look right on the usually overdramatic man.

When you burst out laughing, Asra looks bemused and picks the mirror to see whose face you gave him. He starts snickering himself, and makes funny faces at you that look absolutely ridiculous on Lucio’s face. He only stops when you start struggling to breathe.

“Well…” he says, shaking his head humorously, and you let the glamour fall as he speaks, “You certainly learned how to cast the spell quick.”

You smile widely at him. “Thank you, Asra. I mean it. I don’t know how I could possibly thank you enough.”

Asra hums, “Just have fun and don’t get in trouble. That’s all I need.”

“Deal.”

He smiles, and there’s something mysterious about his expression… But then he perks up a little. “Wait,” he says as you get to your feet, “I just remembered.” He reaches behind himself to unclip a pouch and hands it to you. You take it, raising an eyebrow.

“What is this?” It’s not particularly heavy, but there’s definitely some weight to it.

“Money. For food. Or fun,” he says, smiling that secret smile again.

Later on, while Muriel is training you on the proper use of a sword, you’re so excited that you almost cut yourself on your own weapon. Normally, you’d be embarrassed…but your giddiness outweighs the feeling tenfold. Muriel doesn’t seem to be as bothered by your mistakes than he normally would be, and you wonder if he knows what your plan is, or if he’s just in a good mood. …Probably the former.

 

* * *

 

When you make your escape, you decide to take the form of Asra. Guards and servants tend to avoid the Court Magician’s ward for some reason, and he’s also (maybe) the only one who knows what you’re doing and will be able to improvise should someone question anything.

In preparation, you scour the giant laundry room for the shabbiest and least-assuming clothes you can find. It would be a shame to get caught just because you’re dressed as a member of the royal family. After changing (you hope no one misses these clothes) and casting the glamour, you head out to the palace gates. Your heart is beating so hard you’re worried that the guards will hear it, but as you reach it and walk out, they hardly bat an eye. You walk until you can make a turn into an empty alley, and let the glamour drop.

You…did it. You’re free. For the first time in your life, you can see Vesuvia with your own unbiased eyes. The sky’s the limit here; the only thing stopping you is the steps it takes to get there. As you reach the end of the alley, you take your first step as a free prince into a street—and promptly backpedal when you nearly get run over by a cart filled to the brim with rainbows of flowers. The person pushing it along barely spares you a glance before continuing on their way.

The brusqueness…is refreshing. No one out here knows who you are. As far as they know, you’re just some random citizen. Actually…looking at the attire of the other people on the street compared to yours, you probably look like some kind of stray in the wrong district. Maybe you should leave the Heart District before some stuffy noble raises a stink.

You walk for a long time along the canals of Vesuvia. Keeping track of the many bridges you take, you start walking in what you believe is the direction of Center City, hoping to reach the marketplace there. There’s doubtlessly delicious food (or least something unique) that you’ve never had there, and you want to see it all. And maybe try some of it. You try to suppress your grin, wouldn’t want anyone to look at you strange.

At one point, you smell something amazing. When you turn another corner, you find the source of it—the Center City Marketplace. There are stalls as far as the eye can see, and you’re nearly overwhelmed with all of your options. But then you catch the scent of freshly baked bread, and you follow your nose.

The bakery is in what looks like half of a building, while the streetside looks like all the other stands. Inside the building, you can see several different looking ovens, some orange hot and baking, some dark and empty. The baker is tending to one of the ovens, and he has a large metal sheet covered in rolls. He slides them all off into a large basket, and heads in your direction to the stand.

When he sees you, he smiles. “Hey there, sorry for the wait,” he says as he sets the basket on the counter. “What can I get you?”

You stammer nonsensically a little before managing, “Uh…bread?”

The large man starts guffawing, “You’re going to have to be a little more specific there, lad.” Your mind blanks for a moment (who knew there was so many different types of bread?), and just point to the basket of rolls he just took out.

“Rosemary rolls?” he chuckles, “You’re lucky, they’re the best straight out of the oven,” he says conversationally as he grabs a small bag and fills it with several rolls. “Normally these are worth three coins, but since you seem new around these parts and a little nervous, I’ll give ‘em to you for two.”

You nod and reach into the pouch Asra gave you. But you feel a little guilty paying less than what the rolls warrant, and hand over three of the golden coins. “Thank you, but you worked hard on those, and I don’t really need a discount.” Somehow, you keep your voice steady, despite your nerves.

The baker grins, “Well, that’s mighty kind. Hope you have a good day.” With that, he turns around to start tending to another oven, this one containing a thin but long loaf of bread.

Rolls purchased, you start walking away. You just made your first purchase on your own. As you make your way through the bag of rolls, you observe the rest of the marketplace. There’s more for sale here than just food (all of it looks delicious—you’ll have to come here again and try them all), there are also merchants selling clothing, rugs, jewelry, and some people are even selling fortunes.

There’s one ancient-looking old woman who catches your eye, and you watch her give a reading to a starstruck looking young person. As you watch, you are quick to realize that she’s not actually using magic, she’s just pretending to. You purse your lips; should you tell her customer that she’s tricking them? Maybe you should wait until they’re finished?

As you consider your options, a very terrified looking man turns around the corner ahead of you. He’s carrying a large leather bag that looks full to the brim with items, and you wonder how it hasn’t torn open. You glance at the fake magician, and when you look at the man again, he’s suddenly in your personal space. He shoves the bag into your hands, and you take it, stunned with surprise. Why did he…?

As he dashes away, you see exactly why. Two palace guards turn into the street, and point at you, yelling something you can’t quite hear. That man must have stolen these things, and shoved the blame on you… Oh no.

In a panic, you drop the bag and run as fast as your legs can carry you. You can hear the pounding on the pavement and jangle of armor behind you as the guards chase you through and out of the marketplace. They’re persistent, and you find yourself running over countless bridges until you reach a slightly dilapidated neighborhood. You can’t focus on it for long though, because, upon sprinting into an alley to try and hide, you bump into someone's back.

As you pant, trying to catch your breath after running for so long, your eyes dart up to look up at the person you collided with, and they turn to face you. It’s a man, tall, with dark red curls and pale skin. His clothes are dark and foreboding, and you wonder if you accidentally found yourself into bigger trouble than you were already in. The man opens his mouth to say something, but then the clamor of clanging armor reaches both of your ears. He glares in the direction of the noise (and, more importantly, not at _you_ ), before he looks at you and smiles.

“Follow me,” he says, but he doesn’t give you much of a choice because he grabs your wrist, and pulls you after him. The two of you run for some time, and when you finally stop, you have to lean against a wall or you’ll fall over.

“So,” he begins, arms crossed, “what were they chasing you for? I imagine not for a game of tag.” His words sound accusatory, but his tone says he’s amused.

When you’re finally able to catch your breath just enough to speak, you answer him. “I was just walking around and…someone shoved some things they stole into my arms. The guards saw me, and…thought I was the thief. And I, um. Panicked.” You run a hand down your face, taking another deep breath. Why doesn’t it ever feel like you have enough air? “Although, I’m not sure they’d have believed me…even if I told them what really happened.”

The man barks a laugh, “Probably not.” Then he puts out a black leather gloved hand out towards you. “My name’s Julian. Julian Devorak. What’s yours?”

The building behind Julian has windows that perfectly reflect the sunlight into the alley. The way it lights him up from behind makes it seem like he has a kind of halo, and the easy smile on his lips is enchanting. He looks… beautiful, despite his bruised eyelids and intimidating stature.

You realize you’ve been staring too long, and your still pounding heart skips a beat. You look away at him as you take his hand and tell him your name. He repeats it to himself quietly, and his smile quirks a little in a way that makes you lightheaded. Or maybe it was all the running and adrenaline and lack of air catching up to you…

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, but his smile fades and he looks surprised for some reason…

It’s the last thing you notice before you suddenly realize you’re falling, unconscious before you hit the ground.

 

* * *

 

When you wake up, you’re instantly aware that you’re not in the alley you passed out in. It’s not dark, per se, but you’re definitely inside a building. You jerk up into a sitting position and look around. There’s a couple other cots in the room, cotton white and rather cheap. There’s one bed with a couple brown spots that…you think may have been blood. _What kind of place did you wake up in?_

“Ah, you’re awake.” You turn your head towards the sound of Julian’s voice so fast you almost get whiplash.

“Where am I?” you ask, tone coming out harsher than you intended. You flinch, and add, “Sorry, I just… Where is this?”

He shrugs, “Don’t worry about it. And you’re in my clinic—Goldgrave, a little north of South End.”

“Your clinic? You’re a doctor?” you ask, a little surprised. The doctors at the palace typically wore white. Julian looks as far from a doctor as you currently look from a prince.

The way Julian laughs at that is dark. “I’ve had medical training before, yes.” The way he worded that makes you a little suspicious. Is he a doctor or not? Before you can question him, he continues talking, “Anyway, you’re fine, in case you were worried about that. Just a little fainting spell, but I took you here so you could rest somewhere more comfortable than the pavement. Just how long were you running from those guards?” His question sounds rhetorical, but you answer anyway.

“I was running from the marketplace in Center City to…I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention to where I was going.” When you finish, he’s staring at you in shock. “What?”

“You ran all the way from _Center City_ to South End?” Is that where you were? “No wonder you passed out…” He eyes you critically then, as if he’s reevaluating you. It makes you want to squirm a little.

“So, uh,” you struggle to think of something to make him stop looking at you like that. “How much do I owe you for taking care of me…?”

At that Julian waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. It was more work carrying you over than anything, and even then, it wasn’t that hard. I'm pretty strong,” he says with a smug grin. You frown. Work was work, he deserves to be paid for it. You don’t know how high his fees are though. You look down at the pouch Asra gave you. There’s still a decent amount of coins in it. Hm…

“Anyway,” he continues, “where do you live? I could escort you home.” You look at him, eyes wide. That’s very kind of him. And he doesn’t even want to be paid for it. Unfortunately, you’ll have to turn him down. He can’t know you live in the palace.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I think I can make it on my own.” You finally get up from the bed, but as soon as you try to stretch, you wince—your shoulder aches something fierce.

“Ah, that would be from the fall. You took a nasty hit there.” he says, gently touching your throbbing shoulder. “Here, let me just…” He drags his cool fingers up to a point just beneath the nape of your neck and rubs down and towards your shoulder firmly. At first it hurts more, and you grunt from the pain, but then it starts to fade, and your shoulder hurts a little less. You stare at him with wonder, and you see his cheeks turn a little pink. But he still smirks down at you.

“That’s not the only trick I know. Maybe I could show you sometime…?” It’s the most ostentatious flirting you’ve ever been subject to (by someone that’s not Lucio), and it flushes your face with heat. Even worse, it makes you stammer.

“I-I, um. You… I don’t, _uh_ …” Then he snorts and starts laughing, removing his hand from your shoulder to smother it. Great, you may as well have told him you’ve never even had your first kiss. How embarrassing…

“Ah,” he sighs good-naturedly when he finally calms, “you’re cute. Be careful on your way back. Dangerous types come out at night.”

With a start, you look out a nearby window. It’s not quite dark yet, but it’s almost sunset. You need to get back before anyone notices you’re gone. “Thanks for the help, doctor.”

As he leads you to the clinic’s entrance, he chuckles before saying, “Again, it was no problem.” He opens the door for you, “Take care now. If the powers that be should ever entangle us again,” he gives you a grin and winks, “call me Julian.”

You feel your heart squeeze. How can one man be so charming…? You take one step towards the door, but stop halfway through the door frame. Spinning on your heel, you quickly unclasp your coin pouch and shove it towards him. He barely has a grasp on it before you turn again and start running for the palace. You hear him call out to you, but you ignore him, and eventually you find yourself in the Heart District again.

After glamouring yourself once more, and making it back to your room, you hide your disguise for another time and fall into bed, thinking through the day’s events. So much happened, and in only a few hours. You think about Julian again. What an interesting man… You remember his cavalier flirting, and, your heart beating a little faster, you wonder whether or not he was serious about it. But then you realize the chances of just bumping into him again are slim anyway, and your heart sinks.

Well, you’ll just have to find him yourself. With that in mind, you wrap yourself in your blankets and fall asleep to the thought of his slate gray eyes on you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry a lot of this is exposition and not a lot of development, but I gotta set the stage! :^x
> 
> Yes, because the Red Plague never happened, Julian doesn't have the eyepatch. It honestly broke my heart, I almost made him have a terrible accident or smth, or tbh wear it just for the Aesthetique™, but ultimately decided not to. At least this way, I can make him wink all I want :^)
> 
> I know I tagged a bunch of characters that either had super short scenes or didn't even show up, but I promise they have bigger scenes later!!! Forgive me 🙏
> 
> Anyway, I hope to have the next chapter done within the next few days! And, if everything goes according to plan, there will be seven chapters, and then an epilogue! :^))


	2. Ⅱ - The Hanged Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hanged Man understands that in order to repent or move on from his past misdeeds, sacrifices are necessary. While others don’t understand the purpose of his actions, he is able to see things differently from his shifted point of view. As a result, it’s only natural to him that he walks his path alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how???? But for some reason?? The word count like, almost doubled. IT WAS ACTUALLY ORIGINALLY GONNA BE EVEN LONGER, IT WAS PROBABLY GONNA END UP MAKING IT ALMOST _TRIPLE_ THE WORD COUNT LOL.... But I decided to move around a couple scenes to make it. Better. And more evenly paced.

The next chance you have to escape the palace (almost an entire week of suffocating lessons and training that leaves you bone-tired), you take it eagerly. The moment you get past the gates and let your glamour drop, you start making your way towards South End. You don’t quite remember how to get to Julian’s clinic, and even if you did, there was no guarantee that he’d be there right now. You figure the best course of action is to simply ask around, and hope someone else knows where he is.

Julian’s been on your mind since the day you met him, and you’ve wanted to know more about him ever since. You feel like there’s a lot you could learn from him—he seemed to be familiar with South End, at least, and if you want to get to know the darker parts of Vesuvia, he seems to be a good place to start. He’s certainly seemed friendly enough.

It’s very obvious when you make it to South End. You hadn’t been able to properly take it in before, running from the guard and all. It’s definitely in a state of disrepair; some buildings have patches like torn and mended blankets, clearly fixed by people who can’t afford the skilled craftsmen they’d normally require. Some of the plaster walls are yellow and stained from water, and some buildings have patches of the stuff missing entirely. Alleys are frequently populated by rats and broken barrels or boxes, and there are some potholes in the streets, avoided by citizens and those with carts so naturally that they must’ve been there for ages.

When you see all of it, a pit opens in your stomach with sympathy…and guilt. You would never see things like this in the palace, or even Center City. How much has the sovereignty neglected this part of the city? Why aren’t any of them doing anything about it? How could your parents let this happen? There’s nothing you can do about it now, though.

Eventually you make your way to a place lined with a few stalls. There’s not enough to really call it a market, however, and they aren’t selling anything you’d normally find in one. One of the stalls is manned by a rough looking woman with a toothpick hanging idly from her mouth. She looks incredibly bored, and her stall is populated with jars of varying sizes all containing…wriggling black things. As you near the stall, you’re able to identify them; leeches.

“Lookin’ to buy? You seem new ‘round here.” the woman says once you’re close enough, plucking the toothpick from her mouth. She still mostly looks bored, but there’s a gleam in her eye that speaks of interest.

Unfortunately, you have no interest in what she’s selling. “No, but I was wondering… Do you know Julian Devorak?” You startle a little when she starts laughing.

“‘Do I know Julian Devorak,’ eh?” She snorts and leans back, even though she’s on a stool. She somehow keeps her balance though. “Sure do. I s’pose you’re lookin’ for ‘im.” When you nod, her smile turns sharp and threatening, “An’ what’ll you do if you find ‘im?”

Your eyes go wide. Does she think you’re looking for him because you want to, what, hurt him? “I only want to talk to him. He helped me out a while ago, and I just want to, uh,” your face grows hot, “see him again.” She seems to notice how flustered you are and starts laughing again.

“Awright, fine,” she says. She leans forward against her stand, biting back down on her toothpick, “‘Bout this time, he’s prob’ly in his clinic, smack dab in th’middle o’ Goldgrave. But I doubt it’s, ah… business as usual right now.” The way she says that feels like some kind of inside joke. But she did tell you where he was, so you thank her. As you go on your way, she calls out, “Tell ‘im Tilde says, ‘you’ve caught a good’un this time!’ He’ll know what you mean!”

You blink at her, bemused, but nod. ‘Caught a good one’? Does Julian fish…? You clear the thought in your mind and try to maneuver your way from South End back to Goldgrave. You’re starting to get a better feel for this part of the city, and when you get to Goldgrave, you’re pleasantly surprised that you recognize the neighborhood you’re in. It only takes a couple more turns to reach Julian’s clinic.

As you approach the door, you suddenly feel a little squeamish with nerves. Does Julian even want to see you? He seemed nice enough before, but you did force a payment on him even though he said he didn’t want it. What if he’s too busy to even talk? What if he sends you away? What if—

Your spiraling into self-doubt is brutally interrupted by the wooden door in front of you suddenly being knocked open. Shocked, you can’t contain a squeak of alarm. The person in the door, a thick but short woman, looks equally as surprised to see you. She stares at you like you’re some kind of puzzle before yelling over her shoulder, “Ilya, you’ve got a visitor!”

“A visitor?” you hear faintly from somewhere inside. The woman huffs and starts walking away, mumbling to herself. The door is soon filled by the very man you’ve been looking for. He’s slightly less imposing now than the last time you saw him, and it takes a second to figure out why. He’s not wearing his huge overcoat, the absence of which accentuates his lean body. Then you realize you’re just standing there staring at him. Again. But then again, so is he. He looks surprised to see you, and the self-doubt starts to creep in again.

You clear your throat, “Hi, Julian. Uh,” you flounder for anything to say, “Tilde told me how to find you. She told me to tell you she said, ‘You’ve caught a good one this time?’” you rub the back of your neck, “I don’t know what that means, but…”

It’s quite evident, though, that Julian knows exactly what it means. He makes a choked noise and his gaze quickly darts away from you. More interestingly, his face starts turning bright red. “Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles, “She’s just taking a jab at me.” He finally seems to recover then, clearing his throat and rubbing his face like he’s trying to force down his blush. “Well, come on in.”

You quickly follow him inside before he change his mind. The lobby of the clinic is exactly as you remember it, slightly dim, mostly made of a warm worn wood. There’s not much in the lobby, just a small table on the other side of the room and a coat rack holding Julian’s large overcoat and some kind of dark object beneath it you can’t quite identify from this angle, and you see two hallways leading somewhere else. Julian walks to the table and leans against it, crossing his arms.

“So,” he says slowly, smiling, “what did you come here for? Was it to get this back?” He quickly pulls the pouch you’d given him from some unseen pocket. It still looks heavy with coin. Did he not use any of it?

“No—that was payment. For your help. Have you just kept it this whole time?” It bothers you that he didn’t accept the money, but there’s a tiny part of you that’s a little happy that he apparently counted on seeing you again, despite being surprised before. Julian sighs, then tosses the pouch in your direction. You catch it on instinct, then frown at him.

“I don’t accept payments,” he reminds you, crossing his arms again. “This clinic’s non-profit. Mostly.” The way he smirks gives you the feeling he’s not telling you something. “Besides, even if I did, what I did for you certainly wasn’t worth that much.” He takes his chin in his hand, considering you for a moment. “You know, you don’t look like the type to carry so much coin on you. I have to admit I’m a little curious; how did you come across it?”

For a second, you panic. How did you not even consider the repercussions of throwing that much money at him? How are you supposed to explain that away? But you have to say _something_ or he’ll get suspicious.

“Uh—”

Luckily, you’re saved by the clinic door slamming open. You and Julian both look towards the disturbance, and you see a panting young man. He’s sweating and flushed with exertion, but he still strides strongly over to Julian.

“Doctor Jules, you gotta come quick—me and ma—we don’t have enough, and the collectors are—” Julian holds up a hand and the youth is instantly quieted.

“I’ll handle it, don’t worry.” Then he directs his attention back to you. “You should probably head home. I’ve some…business to attend to.” You wonder if this has to do with what Tilde mentioned about ‘business as usual.’ “It’ll probably be a while, and I wouldn’t want you to wait too long.” He heads over to the coat rack and pulls both his overcoat and the other object from it; a mask with a bird-like beak and red glass covering the eyes. He slides the overcoat over his shoulders, and affixes the mask over his head, hair poofing out of the top.

He gives you a quick two-fingered salute and a, “See you later, sweet cheeks,” before he and the young man leave the clinic. You stare at the shut door, thinking. You could do as he says and go back home to the palace. You could visit to another district, or go to the Center City Marketplace to try some of the other foods there. Maybe you could check out the beach for the first time.

Or you could follow Julian, and see what kind of “business” he was attending to.

Instinct drives you to follow him. You quickly run out the door and look around desperately to try and catch him before it’s too late. You barely see the back of his overcoat fluttering after him around a corner, and you dart after him.

You manage to tail Julian for a few blocks before it seems like they’ve reached their destination, a neighborhood just on the edge of South End. The two of them are standing behind a stack of boxes, peering around the sides to get a handle of the situation. You try and evaluate it yourself, though your vantage point isn’t the best.

The building they’re looking at is a little run down, like many in the district, and standing just outside the open front door is a hunched over older woman looking deeply troubled. The cause seems to be the two people before her, wearing white and gold clothing branded with the royal seal. You’ve seen people in similar outfits in the palace. They’re publicans under the order of Quaestor Lucio; the “collectors” the young man spoke of. One of them, taller and more intimidating, is speaking to the old woman, and you can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but whatever it is doesn’t sound good.

Julian and the young man watch them for a few seconds longer, before Julian turns to face him and says something, to which he nods. Then the doctor strides out from behind the boxes and makes his way towards the commotion.

The tax collectors don’t notice Julian, too focused on the woman. But when he’s is only a few steps behind them, he strikes, kicking the back of the knees of the shorter one so she falls over.

The other tax collector whips out their sword to engage him, but Julian’s too quick—he swipes at their wrist, knocking their weapon out of their hand, and catches it for himself. He doesn’t swing at them, though. Instead, he bashes the side of their head with the pommel, knocking them out cold.

The first tax collector finally manages to collect herself, but she’s too late. Julian points the tip of the sword at her neck.

“If you know what’s good for you,” he drawls dramatically, “you’ll hand over all you’ve taken from these poor people.” She seems to be the weaker willed of the two because she doesn’t argue and hands over a large satchel with trembling hands. Without moving the sword from her neck, he grabs the strap of the bag and throws it over his shoulder.

“Now, why don’t you get out of here? Might want to bring your friend, too. Don’t know what could happen if you left them all alone here.” You can hear the smirk that’s no doubt on his face in his voice. The woman nods rapidly, and, when Julian withdraws the sword, she hastily reaches over to grab her compatriot, and starts dragging him away as fast as she can.

And then…it’s over. The old woman looks up at Julian with a wide grin on her face. You can’t hear what she says to him, but he nods down at her. Then he makes a quick hand gesture, and the young man comes from behind the boxes. He rushes over to the old woman and hugs her so tight, he almost lifts her off the ground. Julian reaches into the satchel and pulls out a smaller bag, likely full of coins. When he hands it over to the old woman, she shakes her head at him, but when Julian insists, she relents.

After that, Julian leaves the scene, heading deeper into South End. You continue following him, curious what he’ll do with the rest of the money he took from the publicans. When he reaches a more crowded area, he pulls off the mask and stuffs it into an inner pocket of his overcoat.

He eventually comes to a stop at a stall you recognize from earlier. It’s Tilde’s stall, and he chats with her for a couple minutes before depositing another bag of money. She grins at him and leers, saying something that makes him glare, cheeks going pink again. You wonder if she’s taking jabs at him again. Then he makes a morose expression, something much too sad for his usually smiling face, and says something too quiet for you to even hear, let alone discern. She looks at him with pity, and they say their farewells before he moves on.

As he meanders through South End, he gives more and more small sacks of money away, some to more shopkeepers, some to beggars on the street, and he even makes personal house calls. When he finally runs out, he begins heading back to Goldgrave, returning to his clinic. Even after he shuts the door, you stare at it, contemplating.

Julian Devorak is a doctor that works for free, and robs tax collectors on the side. But instead of keeping the money for himself, he gives it away to the people it was taken from, and others in the community of South End. For a moment, your only thought is how could someone be so impossibly compassionate? How could he risk imprisonment, and maybe even his life, like he does for everyone? You can’t even imagine it.

But then, you start wondering how Julian manages to survive. The state of his eyes implies a lack of sleep, and he’s rather thin, despite his muscle. If he has no steady income, how does he feed himself? You’re suddenly consumed with such a deep worry that you’re a little surprised. You haven’t known Julian that long, but you find yourself longing to pamper him. You want to take care of him, because clearly he doesn’t take care of himself. …Perhaps a little more than just take care of him.

When you finally start walking home, not wishing to be late for dinner, you think about the next time you’ll see him. Before you go to his clinic again, you’ll buy him some food. Some nice medicinal materials as well, who knows what state his personal collection is in. Maybe he won’t accept your money, but you might be able to persuade him to accept some gifts instead. 

 

* * *

 

You’ve been…distracted.

Since the day you realized how much you want to spoil Julian rotten, you’ve stared into space, forgotten your meals, made novice mistakes, all because you can’t stop fantasizing about him. The man fascinates you. Teasing, reckless, but so caring for other people. You’d love to give him delicious foods and luxurious finery and anything else he could possibly want. Would he be happy if you did? You’re not entirely sure, but you hope he would be. If making him smile was as simple as lavishing him with gifts, you’d do it in a heartbeat.

You can admit to yourself late at night when you’re curled up in bed that you also wonder what it would be like for him to care for you, too. The thought always fills your stomach with butterflies.

Portia is the first person to ask you about your distraction. One day after lunch, she smiles at you and raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been a little out of it for the past few days, milord. Is there something…catching your attention?” The way she’s smiling is mischievous, and you wonder if she somehow knows, or if she’s just guessing.

“I’m fine, just a little tired, you know,” you try to say as an excuse, immediately quickening your pace to avoid her critical eye. “Anyway, I have lessons to attend, I’ll see you later!” The last thing you hear is her giggling.

The next person to notice is Asra. Or he’s known for a while, and is only now commenting on it.

You weren’t exactly lying when you told Portia you had a lesson. When you walk into the Observatory, Asra is there, and so is your aunt. The Court Magician smiles at apologetically.

“I’m sorry, dear, I have to restock some of our supplies. Asra will be supervising your lesson today.”

The moment the door closes after her, Asra looks at you, a coy smile curving on his lips. “So, when are you going to tell me?” he asks.

Nervousness instantly courses through your gut. You decide to play dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, heading over to the pile of cushions to grab a couple for you and Asra.

“You met someone, didn’t you?” He acts like you didn’t even say anything. “When you went out into Vesuvia.” Oh, he definitely already knew. You don’t know why you even tried to hide it.

With a sigh, you admit, “I did. But I’m not going to tell you anything about him.” You have to keep _some_ secrets to yourself. Asra chuckles, taking a seat on the cushion you put out for him.

“So be it. But just know I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk about it.” Then your lesson begins, and you try to focus on the magic instead of your memory of Julian’s smile.

But you know it’s gotten bad when even Praetor Nadia notices.

Praetor Nadia is the only courtier you would consider yourself friends with. The others constantly pander to you, and you’re aware it’s only because you’ll become Count one day and are simply trying to curry favor. (Except for Quaestor Lucio, who you think is actually just trying to seduce you. You’re not interested, but you appreciate his honesty.)

You have afternoon snacks with Nadia every now and then, when the two of you manage to actually be free at the same time. The two of you are enjoying small strawberry cakes on the veranda overlooking the hedge maze when she brings it up.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been slipping up a little, Your Grace,” she says. Unlike Asra, you know she uses the honorific for the sake of decorum. “Is there something distracting you?”

You groan and run a hand down your face. “Is it that obvious?” you grumble. She titters and sets down her plate.

“I don’t think most of the other courtiers can tell. But many of your tutors have.” The smile she gives you is gentle and refined. Sometimes you’re jealous of how perfectly poised and in control Nadia is every time you see her. “Would you like to talk about it?”

For a second, you consider telling her everything. But you just know she would feel honorbound to your parents to tell them, so you shake your head. “Thanks,” you say, “but I think I can handle it on my own.”

She nods. “Very mature of you. Do let me know how it goes.” Then she changes the subject and the two of you return to your sweets.

 

* * *

 

It’s only a couple more days until you can sneak out of the palace again, disguised as usual. Instead of immediately heading to Goldgrave (though you very much want to), you head to the Center City Marketplace. The money Julian returned to you is just enough to cover the cost of all the food you buy, as well as a wide variety of herbs and a couple medical tomes. You’re not sure if they’ll be of any use to him, but it couldn’t hurt.

The load of gifts is heavy, the food in a large basket you bought and the medical supplies in a nondescript satchel you brought from the palace, but you manage to make it to Julian’s clinic before you get too tired. For a second you hesitate in front of the door, wondering if you should knock or not, but eventually you just push it open.

The lobby is empty, but Julian’s overcoat is on the coat rack, so you assume he must be inside somewhere. You aren’t sure if you should try exploring, though—you wouldn’t want to upset him by going somewhere you aren’t allowed. Instead, you call out for him.

The second his name leaves your lips, you hear a terrible crashing sound that makes you nearly jump out of your shoes.  You almost go and try to find the source of the noise, but then you hear rapid footsteps, and Julian emerges from one of the hallways, rubbing the side of his head.

“Oh, it’s you.” His little genuinely happy smile is charming. You can’t help but smile back, entirely too pleased to see him again. But then you remember why you came, and lift the large basket of goods you’re carrying.

“I got this for you,” you inform him, suddenly feeling a little shy. Julian looks confused, but a little curious, and he takes the basket. Holding it with one hand, he opens it up, looking instantly surprised by the contents. You can smell the combined aromas of all the food you got him (spiced and simmered meats, a fresh loaf of bread, and half a cheese wheel) and your mouth waters a little. Then you remember the medical supplies, and you pull the satchel containing them off your shoulder. “These, too.”

He sets the basket down and takes the satchel, looking into it to see what else you’ve brought him. You watch him nervously as he examines the contents, and when he’s finished, he picks up the basket and looks at you with a carefully neutral expression.

“You know I can’t accept these,” he tells you, holding all your gifts back out to you. You purse your lips and cross your arms, stubbornly not taking them back.

“I’m not paying you this time. I’m just giving you gifts.”

“Payments don’t always come in the form of coins,” he points out, raising an eyebrow. “Besides, you hardly know me. What reason would you have to give me gifts?”

‘ _Because I’m worried about you and also I think I might like you_ ,’ is on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back. “Do I need a reason? I wanted to do something for you, after you helped all those people—” Then you gasp and slap a hand over your mouth, realizing what you’ve accidentally let slip. But it’s too late.

Julian’s eyebrows shoot up. “‘Helped all those people…?’ Wait,” his eyes narrow, scrutinizing, “did you…follow me the other day? I thought I felt something on the back of my neck, but I thought I was just imagining things.”

Your face flushes with guilt. “I’m sorry, I just…I wanted to know more about you, and…” You bite your lip, and apologize again, “I’m sorry.”

Julian heaves a sigh and rubs the back of his neck. “I guess if you really insist on giving me all this, then I can’t say no.” You stare up at him hopefully and his cheeks turn a little pink. “But you have to let me show my…appreciation,” and as if to cover up his embarrassment, he gives you a saucy grin to accompany his suggestive tone. Now you’re the embarrassed one.

“I—uh, when you say ‘a-appreciation’...” Your heart starts racing as he takes a step closer to you. But then it stutters a little when he slaps a platonic hand on your shoulder.

“I’m going to take you to my favorite tavern.” Then he raises a brow teasingly, “What did you think I meant?” He laughs and moves to grab his overcoat while you splutter helplessly.

 

* * *

 

You don’t actually go to the tavern at first. It’s still early in the afternoon, and Julian claims to have some errands to run before you can visit the so-called Rowdy Raven.

Your first destination is the South End Market. Unlike the street that Tilde’s stall resides, the South End Market is bustling. Not quite as populated as the Center City Marketplace, but you certainly have a hard time making your way around. Julian keeps you close through it, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and leading the way. It makes your heart flutter a little.

The two of you finally stop by a stand near the edge of the market, and you recognize the smells almost immediately. This is a shop that sells spell ingredients. Julian steps forward, and pulls a slip of paper out of his pocket, handing it over to the merchant. The merchant reads over it, and starts pulling various herbs out from different containers.

While they busy themself, you lean over to Julian. “I didn’t know you practiced magic,” you say, surprise in your tone. Was there anything he couldn’t do?

Actually, you find out, something he can’t do is magic. He snorts and tries to smother his laughter. “Of course not, I’m no magician. And these aren’t for spells. Mazelinka—you remember her, she was there the last time you visited me—she uses them for folk remedies. I’m picking these up for her for thanks…and as an apology.”

The merchant packs ingredients like charred newt flesh and pickled tingleberry into some jars, you notice. There certainly aren’t any folk remedies you know of that use such ingredients, but you aren’t the most familiar with them, so you don’t try to push the subject. Instead, you ask, “Apology?”

Julian groans a little and picks up the package of items when the merchant finishes as he explains, “It’s kind of embarrassing. You remember how short she is, yes? Her house isn’t much different. I practically have to get on my knees to get through the door.” The image that puts in your head makes you snicker, and he grins at you. “So instead of using the door, I usually use the, ah…” he coughs a little, “…the window.”

That makes you laugh even harder. He rolls his eyes, “Yes, yes, very funny. Anyway, the last time I did that, I knocked down about three different jars and a potted plant. She forgave me, but, ah… She said I had to pick these up for her. Honestly, not the worst punishment she’s ever given me,” he adds with a shrug.

With a little leftover laughter in your voice, you ask, “Have you known Mazelinka for long?”

He nods, “When me and my sister were younger, we lived in Nevivon. Mazelinka would visit us from time to time. She taught us a lot. How to sail, how to use a sword… We always wanted to join her on her adventures. She never let us join her for real, though. She probably thought it was too dangerous or something.” His eyes narrow as if he’s still sore about it. But then he smiles down at you, “But anyway. Yes. I’ve known her for a while.”

The two of you talk more on your way to Mazelinka’s house.  You try as much as you can to avoid his subtle questioning about who you are and how you had all that money on you. He almost catches you in a lie a couple times, but you manage to verbally dodge out of the way. It almost becomes a game, one you’re coming to enjoy, and, you suspect, one he does too.

After dropping off the ingredients at Mazelinka’s—who made incessant fun of Julian, making him blush and you laugh—you head to Goldgrave. Julian refuses to tell you where you’re going, but you follow anyway; he hasn’t given you a reason not to trust him yet.

It turns out your destination is a tall building with no windows, the entrance of which is a cold iron door down some alleyway stairs. He opens the door for you, gesturing inside and bowing dramatically. At first you hesitate, but when he grins up at you, you smile back and head in.

Inside is a long room lined with heavy red curtains. Various boxes and barrels and coat racks litter the room, all heavy with costume pieces and props. There’s so many different shapes and colors that you momentarily come to a stop to take it all in. Julian chuckles at your side, and pulls you along by your elbow. When you come to a stop, it’s at a wooden door with an elegant, if somewhat faded, golden sun painted on it. Julian knocks, and the two of you wait.

“This won’t take long,” he mutters. You nod, and just then, someone opens the door. It’s a woman almost as tall as Julian with long curly hair.

“Julian!” she cries, crossing her arms over her chest, “It’s nice to see you again, I feel like it’s been ages since you last visited!”

Julian raises an eyebrow, “I didn’t know a few weeks counted as ‘ages’ to you, madame.” He digs a hand into one of his coat pockets and withdraws a small jar with a paper tag tied to the neck. Contained inside is some kind of dark brown liquid. “I heard your leading man is suffering a sore throat—thought I’d offer some help.”

You look over at him with surprise, but he doesn’t notice. How connected to the city is Julian that not only does he help the unfortunate of South End, but also the actors of Goldgrave? You suspect that he probably has even more connections in other districts.

The madame gapes at him for a second before snatching the bottle. “Thank you so much! We thought we’d have to cancel the play!” She leans over to kiss him on both cheeks, then pats him on the head. “You’re the best!” It’s then she seems to notice you, and she gasps melodramatically. “Oh my, I didn’t know you had a new beau, dear…”

Your heart stutters before going into overdrive, and beside you, Julian jerks with a start. “N-no, it’s not like that. We’re only friends,” he says with a nervous laugh, trying to keep his cool, but he looks as tense as a statue. The madame starts giggling. “Anyway,” he continues, “we have to be on our way. Tell the crew I said hello.”

“I will! And for this, you and your ‘friend’ can attend the play for free. The two best front row seats are yours,” she says with a wink before closing the door.

Julian takes a deep breath before he turns to face you, and you notice his cheeks are pink and he doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Sorry about that, the madame tends to jump to conclusions.” Suddenly you have a hard time looking at him, too.

“I-it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

But then Julian regains his composure, and he grins at you. “Ready to visit the Rowdy Raven?” You beam back at him and nod, excited to visit a tavern for the first time in your life.

 

* * *

 

The Rowdy Raven is not as large as you expected it to be. But it’s kind of cozy, filled with warm light from the lanterns and candles all around. There are people drinking on their own or with friends, a few people are playing card games, and there’s a bard in the corner playing a relaxing ambient song in the corner. The bartender is a gruff looking man, but he gives you and Julian a nod when you enter.

Julian leads you to a small table near the far wall with a candle and only two chairs, and pulls one out for you. When you take the seat, he looks at you with a small smile, and it feels a little intimate…or maybe you’re just imagining things.

“I’ll go get us some drinks.” He turns to leave, but looks over his shoulder and asks, “Any preferences?”

You don’t really want to admit that you’ve never had any kind of alcoholic drinks other than a single glass of wine here and there, so you just say, “Surprise me.” He grins impishly and you wonder if maybe you made a mistake, but it’s too late because he’s already halfway to the bar.

You glance out the single window behind you to try and gauge the time. If you were to guess, it’s some time past the afternoon, but the sun isn’t setting quite yet. Maybe it’s a little early for drinking…but it’s not like you can wait until nighttime.

The sound of metal hitting the table draws your attention. Julian has placed a stein in front of you, full of some kind of golden, frothy drink, and it looks like he’s got the same.

“What is this?” you ask, picking up the cup.

Julian just smirks, “I thought you wanted it to be a surprise.” You pout at him, but he still doesn’t tell you, and just takes a sip from his own drink. After examining the drink again, you shrug, and take a large gulp. It’s not exactly thick, but it’s not thin either, and whatever it is is sinfully sweet for an alcoholic drink. It tastes a little bit like honey, in fact. It’s a lot tastier than the wine at the palace.

When you put the stein down, Julian is staring at you wide-eyed. “What?” You hope you didn’t break some unspoken tavern rule or something.

Julian snorts and laughs a little into his drink. “Nothing, nothing. But you probably shouldn’t drink that fast or it’ll hit you hard. Mead can be sweet, but that makes it dangerous; you don’t realize how much you’re drinking until it’s too late.” …You wonder if he’s talking from personal experience. Nevertheless, you decide to only drink small sips for now.

“By the way, you never did tell me why you followed me back then. Were you just curious?” He sounds casual, but he’s staring at you with his undivided attention. “You know what they say about curiosity and cats. I wouldn’t blame you though, I did make it sound pretty enticing and mysterious.”

You fidget with your cup a little. “Well, yeah, I guess you could say that.” You were curious of course, but your curiosity was a little more personal than what he’s thinking. “You’re pretty good in a fight.”

“Yes, well, I’ve picked up a few things here and there, it’s what happens when you’ve spent as much time traveling as I have,” he says vaguely, waving a hand.

“You’ve travelled a lot?” you ask, eyebrow raised. “Not with Mazelinka?” He sees you’re intrigued and smiles lazily.

“I have. Got into all sorts of trouble. Probably would’ve been a lot less if I _had_ gone with her.” He leans back in his chair and unsnaps a button of his waistcoat, revealing a small peek of lightly furred chest. You try not to get distracted by this as he talks. “I told you I spent a lot of my childhood in Nevivon, with my sister. We ended up splitting up when I got older. I studied medicine in Prakra,” as he lists the events in his history, he ticks his fingers up, “did a stint as a battlefield medic, traveled a good while after that, spent about a year on a pirate ship…”

“A pirate ship?” you look at him astonished. “You were a pirate?” There’s always something new and interesting you learned about Julian every time you see him. Though, you’re not sure why you’re surprised actually, considering his connections in South End.

“Er, well, less of a pirate, and more of a…captive physician? You see, I was onboard this merchant vessel traveling across the Southern Sea…” As he tells you the story, full of flair and theatrical impressions, the both of you drain your cups. He gets the both of you more mead after he’s finished. “Anyway, I learned a lot on that ship. How to talk my way out of sticky situations…and how to fight. Well, fight for my life, anyway.” You wonder what the difference it. He winces, “Though I try to avoid fighting if I can.”

“Unless they’re tax collectors?” you ask with a little smile.

He chuckles, and takes a sip of his drink before answering. “Not just tax collectors,” he says with a strange glint in his eyes, “and in my defense, they deserve it. Practically extort the people in these parts and wonder why they hardly have anything. They’re good people. Hardworking, dedicated.” Julian’s face gets stormy then. “They don’t deserve to be robbed blind. Someone has to stand up to the sovereignty for them. Might as well be me; I don’t have anything to…”

His face goes blank for a second, like he just remembered something, and then he deflates a little and frowns, looking into your eyes with the most serious expression he’s ever fixed on you.

“Listen…there was another reason I invited you here,” he starts, and as he talks, he fiddles with his cup. “I appreciate the gifts and everything, and I had a lot of fun with you today, but…” Suddenly you feel dread pooling in your stomach. “I’m not really someone you should hang around with. You’re different from the people here. They need me, even if sometimes I’m more trouble than I’m worth, but you don’t. You don’t have to get tangled up in my mess. It’s dangerous.” He sighs, murmuring your name like a plea, “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

You knew he was going to say something you didn’t want to hear. But you’re not going to give up so easily. “I won’t,” you say, firmly, “and even if I do, you’re a doctor, I’ll be fine.”

He smirks, but there’s no amusement in it. “Pain’s not always physical, my dear. I’ve hurt plenty of people without even touching them, and I would _absolutely_ hurt you.” Then it falls, and he looks away from you pitifully, like you saw when he talked to Tilde a while back, “But I don’t want that for you. That’s why you need to get away me before it’s too late—I’m a disaster waiting to happen. You deserve better than that."

“But,” your hands shake from how hard you’re gripping your cup, “I don’t want to.” It comes out petulant, but you don’t care right now. “There’s so much about the city I’ve learned just being around you, and I—” You bite your tongue before you say something you shouldn’t. You don’t even know if your feelings for him are real, or just a puppy crush on someone dark and unknown. “I just—”

Julian interrupts you. “No. I’m sorry, but as nice as it’s been… You just don’t know what you’re getting into.” He sighs again, and runs a hand through his hair. The two of you sit in painful silence for a minute before he asks, softly, “Do you want me to take you home?”

You bite your lip and shake your head, standing up from your chair. He still can’t know that you live in the palace, especially since now you know he hates the sovereignty. Besides, if he came along, you’re not sure you wouldn’t cry.

The pleasant warmness of the atmosphere and the gentle buzz in your system has vanished almost entirely, and whatever’s left of it fades away when you step into the now chilly air outside and he doesn’t come after you to tell you he changed his mind.

 

* * *

 

When you return to the palace, sunset is nearly ended. In an attempt to clear your mind, you take a walk up to the Observatory. It’s a place that’s always relaxed you in the past, even at your most troubled.

As you enter, you look up at the skylight; the stars are starting to wink into the sky, and the faint tinge of the pink of sunset makes it look beautiful. As more stars come out, you start searching them, looking for constellations you recognize. For a long while, all you think about is the stars, and the pain in your heart begins to abate.

Your meditative stargazing is interrupted when you hear the door open. Probably Asra, he’s the only one who would come here this late.

“Well, hello, Your Grace,” you hear purred in a much more salacious tone than Asra would ever use. You whirl around, and see Quaestor Lucio. His golden arm glints in the dim light, and so do his eyes, locked on your face. You try to keep your face neutral, but you can’t help but cringe internally. Great, just what you needed; Lucio to start flirting with you after having your heart broken.

“Quaestor,” you say in a brief greeting. He takes a few steps to reach the table beside you and sits on it, crossing his arms. He almost knocks a book over, and you push it away from him in case an overdramatic gesture of his actually does knock it over.

“It took ages to find you, you know,” he says, examining the nails of his right hand. Probably because you haven’t even been in the palace until just recently. “Asra practically sent me on a wild goose chase.” Ah, you’ll have to thank Asra for distracting him.

“Did you need me for something?” you ask, despite knowing exactly what he wants—what he always wants with you. You’re not sure if he’s unaware how much respect your title warrants you or if he just doesn’t care.

“The Count and Countess have been talking lately,” he begins, and you almost consider just tuning him out and continuing your stargazing, but your curiosity is a little piqued. What do your parents have to do with anything? “They’ve been considering whether or not to introduce you to Vesuvia or not.” Lucio smirks at you when you gasp at him, wide-eyed. “Don’t get too excited, it will probably only be to nobility.”

It wasn’t excitement so much as it was fear; Julian may have turned you away, but you would still hate for him to find out who you are, especially from a public announcement instead of from you directly. But luckily, if it’s only nobility, you doubt Julian will be able to find out. He might have a lot of connections about the city, but it’s unlikely he’d be able to discover your identity just from word of mouth.

Lucio continues, standing up straight and walking closer to you, “If they go through with it, it’ll probably be on your birthday. It’s coming up soon, after all.” With that, you finally see what he’s getting at. “So, I was thinking, why go alone when we could go together, hm?”

Typically when Lucio invites you somewhere, you give him the excuse that you’re much too busy. (It’s not _always_ a lie, you are a very busy person in general.) But if your parents are going to hold a party for your birthday, then you’ll have to attend. Lucio probably knows that, and if you’re hearing about this party from Lucio of all people, you doubt Asra or Nadia know yet or they would’ve asked about it by now. He must have only found out today before everyone else, and tried to beat them to the punch. If it wasn’t so bothersome, you’d be a little impressed.

Still, you have to turn him down. “I apologize, Quaestor, but—”

“You _can_ call me by my name, you know.”

“…Lucio,” you humor him, “I’m sorry, but I shouldn’t commit to spending time with any one person if I’m going to be meeting people from outside of the palace. I wouldn’t be able to properly entertain them.”

Lucio scowls at that and crosses his arms. “You’re quite sure, then?” It’s a greater display of boundary-respecting than he usually demonstrates, and you wonder if he’s actually taking a hint for once. You nod, thankful that he isn’t going to make a scene out of it—not that anyone’s around to see it.

“Fine,” he says with a shrug. But instead of backing off, he gets even closer, encroaching on your personal space, and takes a lock of your hair between two golden claws. “But do know that I don’t intend to give up just yet. Victory belongs to the most persevering.” He gazes intently into your eyes even after he’s done speaking, and you stare back, refusing to be intimidated.

Finally he laughs under his breath, low and satisfied, and releases your hair. “I’ll see you later, Your Grace. Pleasant dreams.” You don’t let yourself relax until he’s left the room and you can no longer hear his clicking heels. So much for taking a hint. He must be trying to get under your skin.

But there is one thing he said that stays in your head until you later return to your room. ‘Victory belongs to the most persevering…’

You wonder, as you’re drifting to sleep, if you tried hard enough, if Julian would let you be near him again. Perhaps you'll give it a try next time you have a free day…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be up in a few days! But I might take a short break tomorrow, haha, I'm not sure I've taken more than a couple days off from writing Julian/Apprentice fics since....I started writing them in the first place lmfao


	3. Ⅲ - The Magician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Magician reminds one of their own willpower, telling you that you have the ability to change the world, both within and without. The time to act is now, and holding back would deny you the chance to live in a world of your own choosing.

You grunt with pain when Muriel knocks you down for the tenth time in a row. Your backside is aching from how many times he’s swiped your legs or yanked on your ankles. At least when you’re training with weapons, you actually feel like you have something of a chance, but close-quarters combat always feels more like a punishment than a lesson.

“You’re not focusing,” Muriel says, quiet and critical. Getting distracted by your heartache doesn’t help either.

“I know, I just…” You sigh as you get back on your feet. As you speak, you wipe the sweat off your forehead with your shirt, “Muriel, have you ever wanted something more than anything? But it gets yanked away from you before you can get it?”

Muriel crosses his arms and stares at you blankly, eyebrows drawing together, but you know he’s honestly thinking about the answer to your question. You stare at him hopefully; maybe he’ll have some secret wisdom he can share with you.

“No.” Well, that’s disappointing. “Now, try again.”

You square your legs and raise your hands into a defensive position. Muriel mirrors you, waiting for you to initiate. Concentrating hard this time, you dart over to your bodyguard before feinting left. Instead of trying to block like you expected however, he slides back, and you end up fruitlessly punching thin air.

Before he can grab your arm, you yank it back, and retreat. The two of you begin circling each other, and this time Muriel strikes first. He’s a large man, but his steps are light and agile as he runs towards you, and he aims at your guarding arms. You block the blows, but you know it’s just a distraction, and manage to jump up and back before he can knock you off your feet again.

You grin proudly at him, and he doesn’t smile back, but he gives a short nod of acknowledgement. But then he’s rushing you again, and before you can guess what he’s going to do, he suddenly somersaults around you and swirls around on his shoulders to kick the backs of your knees. You barely have the time to think, ‘ _This is going to hurt_ ,’ before you fall down, face first this time, into the compacted sand for the eleventh time.

With a loud groan, you roll onto your back and shut your eyes to block out the sun beating down on you. When the sun no longer burns through your eyes, you open them to see Muriel leaning down to look at you.

“You’re improving. But whatever’s distracting you… You should deal with it soon.” He stands straight again, and you drag yourself up. “Putting it off will only make it harder to deal with later.”

It’s a good point. You nod at him in thanks, and you both move into fighting stances again.

 

“You’ve been doing better with your lessons, I hear,” Nadia says when the two of you sit down for tea. It’s a beautiful afternoon, and the hedge maze below looks idyllic, like something you’d see in a painting. You wish you could give it the admiration it deserves, but ever since the first time you snuck out of the palace, it’s been harder and harder to appreciate the elegance of the palace. Not when you know that other parts of Vesuvia could never enjoy the same beautiful sights.

At Nadia’s observation, you nod. You’ve been forcing yourself to focus on your studies—both to make up for when you hadn’t, as well as to distract yourself from Julian’s rejection. Maybe you’re working a little _too_ hard, but…well, you’ve been having a difficult time lately. You hope she’ll change the subject, but Nadia continues.

“Overworking yourself won’t solve your problem, you know,” she pauses to take a sip of her tea, “You need to relax.”

“Do I?” you mutter into your cup. “I thought you said I had to work harder last time.”

She gives you a reproachful look, but the corner of her mouth lifts. “I believe I said you needed to solve your problem. Indeed, you told me you would handle it on your own—I take it your solution is to just work yourself to the bone?” The subtle raise of one of her eyebrows paired with the way she cuts you to the quick appropriately cows you.

You grope for the words to explain your issues without revealing too much. It’s difficult, you know how observant and perceptive she can be, but you still try. “I just… I want to spend time with someone I, um. Care about. But they pushed me away because they don’t…” you hesitate, wondering if you’re about to say too much, “they don’t think they’re good for me.”

Nadia stares at you for long enough that you’re worried she’s figured you out somehow, but then she lets her eyes slip shut and says, “Your Grace, I can’t say that you _should_ pursue—” if you were taking a drink of your tea, you would probably choke on it, “—someone that can claim themself not to be good for you, but…” She sets down her cup, and hums, opening her eyes again. “You’re familiar with the saying, ‘the course of true love never did run smooth?’”

“Yes,” you say with a nod, face flushing. So much for staying subtle.

“Of course the meaning is that no relationship will be free of troubles. If you love someone, you have to fight for them.” Nadia takes her chin in one hand. “This person clearly cares about you, if they feel the need to push you away for your own sake; you just have to convince them that you care enough about them that you can take the bad along with the good.” She laughs a little and adds, “You may also want to remind them that you’re an adult, and you can make your own choices.”

“That’s…” You blink at her. “That’s really good advice. Thank you, Nadia.”

She nods. “Of course.” The two of you sit in companionable silence, just drinking tea and enjoying your snacks. Then she asks, completely out of the blue, “So, will you ever tell me who this mystery beloved of yours is?”

This time you _are_ taking a drink, and you definitely choke on it. Nadia, the traitor, just laughs at you.

 

* * *

 

The day before your next day off, you begin planning for your next encounter with Julian. Because you _are_ going to see him again, whether he wants you to or not. Muriel was right, and so was Nadia; you can’t just put it off any longer, and if you really want him to let you back, you’re going to have to prove it to him. (Hopefully he’ll accept that you can handle anything he throws at you if you just tell him enough.)

First of all, no gifts. As much as you’d like to give him more, it would only distract from the purpose of your visit. Next, you decide you should pay a visit to Mazelinka. She seems to know a lot about Julian; surely she can tell you something useful for your argument, and maybe she can give you an update on how he’s been doing since you last saw him. And finally, you begin going over and over in your head what you’re going to say to him, and a rebuttal to just about anything he could try to convince you with to stay away from him.

You feel good and ready the next day when you sneak out. Your stride on the way to Mazelinka’s is confident, steady, and every time doubt starts creeping in your head, you swiftly set it aside.

When you knock on Mazelinka’s door, she doesn’t answer for so long that you’re worried she’s not in, but you jump a little when you hear someone call your name from behind you. You whirl around and there she is, in her thick blue shawl with her arms crossed.

“Honestly, I’m not surprised to see you,” she says gruffly as she moves past you to open her door.

You follow her as she shuffles in. “You’re not?”

The smells and ambience are as relaxing as they were the last time you visited. She starts moving about the room, starting a fire over a thick black cauldron, not looking at you as she talks. “Ilya told you to stay away from him for your own safety, but you want to see him again, don’t you?” She sounds like she's talking from experience, and you sigh, leaning against the door behind you. “Am I wrong?”

“Nope, you got it in one,” you grumble.

Mazelinka laughs, but you can tell she’s not laughing at your expense. As she talks, she bustles about the house, pulling out herbs and vegetables, chopping them all up together and tossing them into a bowl, “I have to say, he seemed more upset than he usually does. Came to me a few days ago, drunk stupid, and moaned and bellyached at me all night. ‘ _Oh_ Mazelinka, I miss him already,’ ‘He looked so sad, I almost went after him,’ ‘I hardly know anything about him but I feel like we could’ve had something, you know?’”

You about feel like you’re floating on a cloud—did he really say those things? Does he really care about you that much? Maybe your chances of convincing him are better than you thought.

Then Mazelinka looks over at you thoughtfully, “He cares about you. And I think he needs you; someone who doesn’t _need_ him like everyone else, but wants to stay anyway.” She rubs her chin and narrows her eyes at you, “If you’re going back to him, make sure you hold on tight. He’s a slippery boy.”

“Is that how he gets through the window so easily?” you joke, and Mazelinka laughs so suddenly that she starts coughing. When she calms, you smile a little nervously and ask, “So, do you have any advice on how to talk him into letting me stay?”

“Depends.” She frowns and pours oil over the mixture in the bowl.

When she doesn’t clarify, you ask, “On…?”

She sighs. “On whether he’s drunk or not. He’s been doing that more often lately.” She tosses the mixture into the cauldron. “Probably because of you. It also depends on if he’s done a heist recently.”

“A heist? You mean like with the tax collectors?”

Mazelinka looks at you with a raised brow. “Ilya doesn’t only rob the collectors. I mean a heist on one of those noble types in the Heart District.”

Julian robs nobles, too…? You had no idea. Tax collectors taking more than what was due and delivering straight to the palace that didn’t care about the destitute was one thing, but robbing the nobility is a slightly grayer area. But…you sort of don’t blame him. While the nobles weren’t as rich as the sovereignty, they certainly had more excess wealth than anyone in the other districts, and they guarded it jealously. In fact, you’re quite sure the only reason they don’t ply you with gifts for influence in pursuit of more money is because they don’t know anything about you. Maybe they deserve it.

When you’re silent, she turns fully towards you and crosses her arms. “Did he not tell you? Are you going to change your mind?”

You shake your head to clear your thoughts. “No, but it’s fine. I don’t care if he does or not. So, advice?”

Mazelinka sighs. “If he’s sober and has been laying low, then it shouldn’t be too difficult as long as you’re persistent, and be honest with him.” You’ll…definitely try to be as honest as you can be. “Sometimes all he really needs is a good kick in the pants. But otherwise…it’s hard to say for certain.”

You hum and nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Standing straight again, you walk up to Mazelinka and hold out your hand. “Thank you, Mazelinka. I really appreciate it.”

She glances at your hand, then up at you. When she takes your hand, she says, “Take care of him.”

You smile, “I will.” You’ll do everything you can.

 

* * *

 

When you get to Julian’s clinic and make your way inside, you notice that Julian’s overcoat is gone. He must be out. You don’t think he’s on one of his heists though, because that white mask of his is still hanging partially hidden on the rack. With a sigh, you head over to the small table and sit on it. Julian needs a place to sit in his lobby, you think. Maybe you could convince him to accept a bench or something. …It might take a lot more convincing.

It feels like you wait for ages for him to get back. You wonder if maybe he had just left before you got here or something. But it’s only a matter of time until he inevitably shows up.

The door slowly opens, creaking slightly, and Julian stumbles in, groaning. At first, you wonder if he’s hurt or something, and you rush to his side. “Are you okay?”

As you rest your hand under his arm to support him and get a good look at his face, you can tell that it’s more likely that he’s drunk. When he looks at you, his eyes are bleary and he’s flushed all the way down to the unbuttoned collar of his waistcoat. His lips are chapped and red like he’s been biting them all day.

He murmurs your name, perplexed, then he starts chuckling low in his throat. He takes a few shaky steps forward and wipes his face hard with his hands. “Great, now I’m hallucinating.”

Your brows furrow and you move around him to look him in the eyes. “I’m not a hallucination, Julian.”

Julian stares at you blankly for a moment. But then his eyes widen comically and he instantly looks nervous, avoiding eye contact. “Oh. You’re…here. In my clinic. For real. What, uh. What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk,” you say, squaring your shoulders.

His nervousness fades away, then, and he sighs with resignation, walking deeper into his clinic. “We don’t, actually. _You_ need to go home.” You follow closely behind him.

“No.” He stops moving and looks down at you quizzically, and purses his lips before opening his mouth, but you keep talking, “I’m not leaving. Stop trying to push me away.”

“You…” Julian makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl, running a hand through his hair roughly, and his words start slurring together the more emotional he gets. “Why don’t you understand I’m doing this for you?” He takes a large step towards you, his overcoat fluttering off his shoulders with the sudden movement, and when you instinctively step back, you bump into a wall. “I’ve done terrible things and I’ve made so many mistakes, and I’m going to keep doing it all over again and again, because that’s just what I _do_. Please, I…I can’t be the reason you get hurt.”

You’re not going to let his tirade daunt you. You’ve come this far, and you’ll be damned before you give up now. Besides, you’ve heard it all before; you know exactly what to say this time.

“It doesn’t matter how many times you mess up or hurt someone, Julian,” you begin, staring up at him earnestly, “because maybe you can’t see it, but I have; whatever terrible things you’ve done couldn’t possibly outweigh all the good you’ve done for the people of this city. You heal people for nothing in return, and risk your life all the time just to help everyone survive. You run yourself ragged trying to make up for all the things you’ve done, but you can’t even see how many people you’ve _helped_.” As you talk, you see Julian’s look of frustration melt away, and he looks away from you, like he’s embarrassed about all his good deeds being acknowledged. “It might be hard to believe, but…I want to help _you_. I think you deserve being taken care of yourself for once. And I want to spend time with you.”

He surprises you with a short huff of a laugh. When he talks, his voice quivers a little. You can’t tell if it’s because he’s drunk, or if he sounds a little…hopeful? “Even if I hurt you last time? Even if I might do it again?”

“Even then.” You take a step towards him, and this time he’s the one that backs away, staring at you with a flustered expression. “Also, I’d just like to point out that I’m an adult. I can handle a little pain.”

“A-ah,” he stutters, darting his eyes up towards the ceiling, “I suppose that’s true…”

When you move towards him again, he’s the one against the wall. His eyes go half-lidded and he bites his lip, looking oh so enticing. Then he covers the top half of his face with one hand, trying to hide from your steady gaze.

“I just want to help, Julian,” you say softly, without thinking, “Can’t you let me…?”

That seems to be what breaks him. He lets out a melodramatic sigh, and looks at you skeptically through his fingers. “There’s no way I can change your mind, is there?” You shake your head. “ _Fine_ ,” he relents, dropping his hand, “I guess if you really want to…I can’t stop you.”

When he leans down to pick up his overcoat, you can swear you see him try and fail to hold back a little smile.

 

* * *

 

By the time you finished talking to Julian, it was nearly sunset. You needed to make it back in time for dinner, after all. But your goodbyes are dragged out as long as they could be, and it leaves you so pleased that you can’t contain it when you return to the palace. If Portia notices, she kindly doesn’t point it out.

Your thoughts are often on Julian, but now, it feels like your head’s finally clear. Your lessons go smoothly, and you’re even able to pull one over on Muriel, surprising both him and yourself. It feels amazing, like you could do anything, like you can take on the world. It feels like—like—…

It feels like love.

The thought occurs to you during lunch one day, and it shocks you so much that you drop your fork. The clattering is so loud in the quiet dining room that your parents look up in alarm. You quickly wave them away when they call your name in concern, and excuse yourself as soon as you can.

Do you love Julian? It certainly seems that way, what with the butterflies and the empowerment and the constant longing. When you think the words, ‘I love Julian,’ it feels _right_. It’s so strong that you wonder when exactly it happened. You can count the amount of times you’ve met him on one hand. How did it go from innocent interest to full-blown love...?

As nice as it is, you think, practically floating through the palace, you probably shouldn’t tell him. He’s flirted with you, sure, but you’re worried that if you tell him, your insistence to stay by his side would seem suspicious, like you had other motives. You absolutely don’t, you don’t expect anything from him in exchange for your dedication to him, but you don’t want him to doubt your intentions even a little. The fact that you have to hide it is a little disappointing—you want to shout it as loud as you can to anyone who’d listen—but it’s not enough to dampen your mood.

It's that mood motivates you to approach Asra for more money. You want to buy Julian another gift (perhaps some nice clothes?), but you’re out. When he gives you some the next day, you ask him, “Where do you even get this from?” He just smiles coyly and puts a finger over his lips. You figure it would be unwise to question further. He probably wouldn’t tell you anyway.

There are plenty of clothing shops in the Center City Marketplace, but you want something more…refined. When you get the chance to sneak out of the palace again, you don’t wear your disguise at first. You keep it in a bag over your shoulder, and decide to go in some of your more casual princely attire, hoping you look like any of the other nobles in the Heart District.

It takes you some time to find somewhere that sells the kind of finery you’re looking for. You’re not as familiar with the Heart District as you are now with Goldgrave or South End, but you do manage to find one. There’s a lot of different outfits, and a lot of them are appealing. It’s difficult to find many in Julian’s size, however.

You turn to inspect another shelf of clothes, and that’s when you see it. The outfit looks absolutely perfect; dark with shiny copper accents and buttons, the collar, lapels, and bottom hem trimmed with long black feathers, with a white vest and undershirt and accompanying red cravat. There’s a pair of short leather gloves tucked in a pocket, and dark gray leggings folded beneath it. As you lift it up from the shelf to check the size, you’re ecstatic to find that it’s almost exactly right.

Carefully you lift all the parts of the outfit, and head to the shopkeeper. She takes in the outfit and tells you the price. When you hand over to requested payment, you notice you still have about half of it left over, to your pleasant surprise. She gives you an intricate thin wooden box to place the suit in, stamped with the shop’s name and emblem. You thank her, and immediately make your way to Goldgrave.

You’re almost to Julian’s neighborhood when you realize that you’re still wearing your princely attire, and you quickly find a hidden alcove in an alley to quickly change into your disguise. You’re not sure what to do with your old clothes, however. You can’t keep it with you, not with the off chance he’ll see it. Then again, the fact you’re bringing him such a nice outfit is already strange… Still, you don’t want to risk it, so you just leave it folded on a box in the alley. Maybe one of the Goldgrave actors will find it and make good use of it.

When you finally enter Julian’s clinic, you see that he’s not alone. He’s holding his beaked mask under his arm while he listens to a short man in the palace servants’ uniform. You don’t recognize him, but you know there’s an impossibly long list of servants in the palace. You hope this one doesn’t recognize you… The two of them don’t notice you at first, so you listen in on what seems to be the tail-end of their conversation.

“—and apparently they’re holding a party soon. They’re looking to impress, pulling out _all_ the stops; it’s the perfect opportunity to finally sneak in.”

Julian hums and strokes his chin. “I’m not sure I’d be able to get through the security there with stealth alone, Balthasar. I need a different in…”

The man, apparently Balthasar, nods. “All right, I’ll keep an eye out. Maybe I can try to get you in as a servant?”

Julian grimaces and lets his head hang for a second before picking it back up, a placating grin on his face. “How about we save that as a last resort, hm?”

Balthasar pouts, but accepts this. Then he turns and finally sees you. “Oh!” Julian looks over to see what he’s reacting to, and when he sees you he smiles, tired but genuine.

“Hello, my dear,” he says. He waves goodbye to Balthasar as the man walks around you to the exit. Then his attention is drawn to the box under your arm and he raises an eyebrow. “Is that what I think it is?”

You can’t help a smile, “If you think it’s a gift, you’d be right.” You walk up to him and hold it out, and Julian must recognize the name on it because he looks up at you with shock.

“I definitely can’t accept this,” he says, voice hushed and cheeks turning red, “There is no way you didn’t pay a fortune for this—because I _know_ you didn’t steal it—and that’s _too much_ —”

“It’s not,” you say, frowning, “You deserve it.” Then, an idea springs to mind and you grin. “Besides—you were talking about trying to get into a party? Maybe _this_ can be your in?”

Julian has a look that says he’s about to disagree with you and opens his mouth to do so, but then he closes it. “That’s…not a bad idea,” he says with a groan, dragging a hand down his face. “ _All right_ , but don’t get anything so expensive for me anymore, all right?” He takes the box from your hands and goes about checking its contents.

“No promises,” you mutter under your breath, staring at him without blinking. You want to watch his reaction when he sees it. And you’re not disappointed; when he slides the lid off, his eyes widen and he drags his fingertips over the feathers and buttons softly, like he’s afraid of damaging it. He delicately pulls the jacket up and out of the box, holding it up so he can see the whole thing.

“I have to admit, they _do_ have fine taste…” he says, more to himself than you. Then he looks over at you and smirks. “I’m going to go try it on. Wait a moment?”

You nod furiously. There’s nothing you want more right now than to see him in that outfit. He replaces the jacket in the box, then heads down one of the hallways of his clinic, tossing his mask on the table as he passes it.

While you wait, you find yourself approaching the table, lifting up his mask so you can see it up close. The black cloth seems to be simple dyed cotton, but it’s the white leather and red glass that you focus on. The stiff leather is mostly smooth, but there’s a couple nicks here and there that you unconsciously trace with your fingers. The red glass is completely intact, though you do wonder how he sees through it. It must be difficult to…

“Well,” you hear from down the hall and you quickly drop the mask before he can can catch you touching it, “what do you think?” He makes it to the lobby and when you see him, you feel your jaw slacken.

You figured Julian would look good in nice clothes, but right now he looks like was _made_ to wear finery. The jacket is accentuating and tight on him, but the way he twirls around for you makes it look like it’s more of fitted than suffocating, and you’re so so glad you found something that works for him so perfectly.

It seems like you’ve been staring too long, because Julian chuckles nervously and asks, “You all right?”

You shake yourself out of it and nod. “Yeah, I just, um. Y-you look…good.” You could hit yourself— _good_? He looks exquisite, dashing, _ravishing_.

Julian blinks at you, then suddenly gets this scheming grin on his face that should unnerve you, but mostly it just charms you. “You know,” he starts, walking towards you slowly. “I’m just going to keep asking ‘til you answer me.”

“Asking what?” You know exactly what, but this game of yours, of Julian trying to find out who you are, always starts like this. But unlike usual, Julian has the advantage of looking so devilishly handsome in clothes that _you_ bought him that it’s hard to think.

“Where do you get all this money? These gifts?” He lifts a gloved hand to drag his fingers feather-light up your shoulder—that’s not fair, he’s cheating, “I’ve been to the nobles’ quarter plenty of times, but I’ve never seen you there.” He reaches the base of your neck, and it instantly raises goosebumps up the back of it. You’re sure he _knows_ he’s cheating by now, you can see it in that entirely too smug smirk of his. “But you’re also _much_ too innocent to have gotten it all through some dishonest means…”

“That’s—” you have to swallow when his fingers move up the skin over your jugular, “that’s awfully presumptuous of you. What if I’m just pretending to be innocent?” You both know it’s entirely bluster, but he indulges you anyway.

“Then you would be a better actor than anyone in Vesuvia,” he says with a quiet laugh. His hand stops just under your jaw, and he can probably feel the fluttering beat of your pulse. “ _And_ I would’ve heard of you by now.” His thumb brushes against your cheek. “Just…” his voice gets quiet and he examines your face so closely, like you’re some mystery he’s desperately trying to solve, that you suddenly feel the urge to spill everything, “…tell me, why don’t you…”

“I-I…” But you can’t manage to say anything else. You feel like it’s either be quiet or confess everything, and your make your choice quickly. It must show on your face, because Julian sighs, and you feel the breath on your face.

“…I’m gonna go change out of this,” he says finally, pulling on a smile, “Don’t want it to get messy or anything before the party.”

When he leaves to change again, you immediately collapse against the wall and consider bashing your head against it. Ultimately you’re glad you gave him the outfit. He looks fantastic in it, seems to like it, and apparently it will serve him in a future heist. But maybe you overestimated your ability to handle him in such nice clothes—not to mention clothes that _you_ bought for him. There’s a surge of emotions in your heart, equal parts selfish (you want to be the only one who can see him like this) and shameful (he’s not _yours_ , you can’t just have him all to yourself). You rub your cheeks hard, trying disperse the heat there.

You were much too close to telling him everything. In the future, you’ll have to prepare yourself better.

When he comes back out, he’s in his usual outfit, overcoat and all. He smiles at you and asks, “So, want to go get a bite to eat?”

You perk up and nod. The perfect distraction. Unfortunately, the two of you are interrupted by the loudest cacophony of cawing you’ve ever heard in your life. Julian looks up, eyes wide with…fear? He looks down at you, looking more worried than you’ve ever seen him, and he grabs his mask off the table. As he yanks it on, you ask, “What’s going on?”

“Guards afoot,” he explains, “Look lively, we have to get out of here.” He pulls off his overcoat and drapes it over you, flipping up the collar to hide your face. Then, just like the first time you met him, he doesn’t give you a chance to say no, grabbing your wrist and pulling you down one of the hallways in the clinic.

You eventually reach a back door of sorts that leads into and alley behind the building. The two of you run through a couple streets before you hear a cry of, “Over there!” and you hear the loud clamor of the guards chasing after you. You hear Julian swear, and he darts down another alley. Unlike the first time the two of you ran from guards, this seems to be a much larger group; it sounds like the clanging metal is coming from all directions.

The two of you round another corner, and you see one of the guards on the far end of the street, but Julian doesn’t seem to notice, turning such that the guard is behind you. You look over your shoulder and see them raise up a bow and arrow, leveling their aim in your direction. When you gasp, Julian finally looks over and things seem to move in slow motion as the arrow is loosed.

Julian yanks hard on your arm, but the momentum of pulling you out of the way puts him nearly where you stood. The arrow whizzes by, and you hear Julian cry out, but the arrow is clearly stuck in a wall before you so it must not have pierced him. You move to check Julian for wounds, but he grabs your wrist again and continues running.

The sound of armored guards eventually starts fading the farther the two of you run, and eventually you find out where he’s taking you. He helps you climb up one of the aqueducts (uncomfortably close to the palace), and the two of you walk along the edge of it for some time.

When you finally climb back down, you’re in a thick garden, and you see a humble but cozy looking cottage in the center of it, with a bench against one of the walls and a water pump not too far away. As you near it, Julian seems to relax. He pulls off his mask and looks over at you, “We’ll be safe here, don’t worry.” You wonder who this cottage belongs to. You’re not too far from the palace grounds, who would be _allowed_ to live here? Evidently, someone Julian knew.

He leads you inside, and as soon as the door closes, he falls into a chair near the entrance.

“Julian!?” You rush over to him and search him. He didn’t let you before, but now you’re safe, and he doesn’t look like he’s going to be ready to move for some time. He wasn’t shot in the arms or chest. You examine his legs and see a tear in his leggings on the side of his thigh, a wound bleeding sluggishly into the fabric.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, “It’s not as deep as it looks, I just need to…” He tries to stand up, but the moment he does, he falls back down with a hiss of pain.

“You don’t need to do anything, I’ll take care of it,” you say, pulling off his overcoat and draping it over his shoulders. You frantically search around the house, looking for anything that looks like it could contain medical equipment. Eventually you find an unmarked box with rolls of bandages with small thin cloths, a squat tin jar, and a couple of soft rags. There’s also a curved needle and white thread meant for sutures. You hope Julian was right and you won't need to use them.

You return to Julian’s side and set the box on a nearby table. “I need you to take off your boots and pull down your pants,” you tell him. You barely have the time to see his placid expression fall into shocked embarrassment before your turning back to look for a bucket of some kind. You’ll need water to clean the wound, and you hope the water pump you saw outside works. When you find one, small and wooden and well-used, you head outside and luckily, the pump does work. The water is absolutely frigid, but it’ll have to do.

When you go back inside, Julian is determinedly looking away from you. His boots are off to the side of the chair, and he’s very daintily pulling down his blood-soaked leggings. You finally realize what it is exactly you asked him to do and you try to ignore how hot your face gets in response.

Once his wound is exposed and he sits back down, you pick up the box and kneel beside the wounded leg. You’ve never treated something like this before, but you remember getting a similarly bad cut in your youth when you first started training with real swords and how the palace doctors treated it.

First, you reach into the box to take one of the soft rags, dipping it into the bucket of water before gently brushing it against the wound. Julian makes a soft little moan that’s…certainly from pain, right? Once his leg is cleaned, you can finally see how deep it is; true to his word, Julian’s gash is not terribly bad, but you’re surprised he managed to climb and walk around like he did on your way here. You reach for the bandages, but before you reach them, your eye falls on the small tin jar.

You lift it up and ask, “What is this?” When you look up at him, you see his face is still flushed, and he’s still not looking at you. But he has to when you ask him the question, and you see his eyes are slightly lidded.

“It’s, ah…” he rubs the back of his neck, “It’s an ointment. Keeps cuts from getting infected. You…” he bites his lips before adding quietly, “You might want to use it.”

With a nod, you get back to work. You twist the little lid of the jar, and see that the white, somewhat transparent ointment has been used before, and plenty. You suddenly become consumed with worry; how many times has he needed to use this? But you shake your head, and dip your fingers in. As you start applying the ointment, you watch his face to make sure it doesn't hurt too much. But oddly enough, instead of seeing a cringe of pain, he looks…a little dazed. The hand that he’s holding against his stomach to keep out of your way is twisted in the fabric of his waistcoat.

But then you finish with the ointment. You wipe what’s leftover on your fingers on the lip of the jar and place it back in the box, tightly lidded again. Next, you reach for the thin cloth and bandages and consider your method of approach. There’s several ways you can wrap this, but the best way would probably be…

Julian gazes at you when you stand up and move to his front. Grasping underneath his thigh, you gently start lifting his leg and moving it to wrap around your waist. His dazed expression quickly morphs into something flustered and he stares at you wide-eyed, “Wh-what are you—”

“I need to wrap it, and this is the easiest way. Hold still.” At your assertive tone, he nods shortly, bites down on his lip, and looks away again. …Interesting.

You fold the thin cloth and place it along his wound before unrolling the bandages out just to enough to begin the wrapping. The two of you are quiet as you go. At some point, it gets too awkward, and you have to break the silence.

“Is this okay? Not too tight?” you ask. He jumps a little, but shakes his head.

“You’re, uh. You're fine.” Then he pauses for a second before saying, “Thanks. For doing all this, I mean.” He looks up at you shyly through his lashes, and he’s so cute that your hands stutter to a stop.

“Of course, I don’t mind at all,” you mumble, quickly getting back to work. But then you finish, tying the bandages firmly, and let his leg back down. You go about cleaning up the materials in the box and putting it back where you found it while he pulls his leggings back up and his boots back on.

When you return to his side, he’s standing up again, testing his leg. He looks over at you and smiles, “You did a good job. Didn’t know you could dress a wound.”

“To be honest, it was the first time I’ve ever done it,” you confess, “But I’ve seen others do it before.” You lift your sleeve to show him the scar that your blunder had given you. It’s mostly faded by now, but he still looks at it, curious.

“How’d you get that?” he asks, reaching over to touch it. But he pulls his hand away before he does.

You purse your lips and wonder if telling him how would be revealing too much. Probably not, it’s not like knowing how to wield a weapon is exactly rare. “Sword training.” Still, you shouldn’t divulge too much.

Julian raises a brow and leans against the table. “Sword training, hm? I didn’t know you could fight.”

“You never know what could happen,” you say vaguely with a shrug.

A lazy smile crosses his face and he eyes you suggestively. “Maybe you could show me your moves sometime.”

You stammer nonsense noises for a second, before you’re startled by the door opening. The both of you look at it, and, to your complete surprise, you see your handmaiden Portia of all people. You didn’t know she lived so close to the palace grounds. And you _definitely_ didn’t know she knew Julian.

When she sees the two of you, her mouth falls open. Julian doesn’t seem to understand the reason for her shock, and he approaches her to bend down and give her a hug. “Hey, Pasha, sorry for dropping in without any notice. Things just happened, you know how it is.”

Over his shoulder, Portia gives you a perturbed look, and you desperately press a finger to your lips, silently begging her to not reveal your identity. You hope she understands what you’re trying to communicate.

It takes a second for her to reply to Julian, and she nods at you while she does, “It’s all right. What happened? And, um,” she nervously adds, “who’s…this?”

Her acting isn’t the greatest, but Julian either doesn’t notice or thinks her nervousness is due to the appearance of a stranger. With a flourish, he gestures to you and “introduces” you with pomp and circumstance. “He’s a friend. …I met him completely by chance,” he finishes with a grin. Then he turns to you and does the same for Portia. “This, my dear, is my sister Portia. I told you about her, remember?”

When he mentioned his sister, you had no idea you already _knew_ her. But you nod stiffly anyway and hold out a hand, “I-it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she says. Then she looks over at Julian, “Say, Ilya, I don’t see Pepi around, so she must be outside. Could you, uh, go find her for me?” He gives her a suspicious look, but shrugs and heads outside.

Then she rounds on you, speaking rapidly but quietly, “How do you know my brother? Have you been leaving the palace? Is that the reason why you’re always missing on days off lately?”

You cower under her barrage of questions, and you regret not telling her about your excursions earlier. “Yes, I have; Asra taught me a spell that I could use to get out and actually see Vesuvia, so I’ve been exploring it. And Julian wasn’t lying, we really did meet by chance. Some guards thought I stole something, and he helped me escape.”

Portia stares you down silently and you almost start sweating. But then she says, “Well, as long as you’re staying safe…” Then she raises a hand to her chin and muses, “Is that why you’ve been acting weird the past few weeks? Let me guess, he tried to push you away for your own good.” Her face is thoroughly unimpressed, and it relieves some of your tension.

“He did but… Well, last time I saw him, I talked him into letting me stay,” you can’t help but smile at the memory.

Portia looks surprised. “Wow, really?” she beams at you, “That’s rare. Good job, it’s pretty hard to get through that thick skull of his.”

“I had some help, but thanks,” you say with a little laugh. “It was worth it.” You worry a little about the fondness that slips into your words.

Suddenly she frowns a little, focusing hard on you, “Milord, do you…” She bites her lip like she’s not sure if she should ask, but she does anyway, “Do you have feelings for him?”

“I—” you look away from her, a little ashamed, “Yes. I do.” Then you look her in the eye seriously, “Please don’t tell him. And don’t tell him I’m the prince. I don’t…” You can’t keep the wretched quality out of your voice when you say, “I don’t want him to hate me…”

“Aw,” she says, sympathetic. She reaches over to pull you into a hug, “I could never resist that sad puppy look of yours.” When she pushes you away, her hands are firm on your shoulders. “But milord, we definitely have to talk about this for real tomorrow, okay? When we have the time—”

The timing is almost comedic when Julian comes in through the door carrying a brown and cream colored cat. That must be Pepi. Portia yanks her hands away from you.

“Found her,” he says, placing her gently on the couch, “She was rolling around all over your mint, Pasha, you might want to check on it.”

“What!” Portia exclaims with dismay and betrayal, “Pepi!”

The three of you spend time together until you have to leave. Julian remains behind, saying he wants to catch up with his sister, and when he’s not looking, Portia mouths the word, ‘tomorrow,’ at you. You nod, and make your way back to the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is where the story Really starts Rollin, folks, get ready for chapter Ⅳ: the Tower! 😊


	4. Ⅳ - The Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though you may try to avoid or resist an impending disaster, the Tower must fall for you to build it back up. Beliefs and relationships built on falsehoods have to break before they can be reforged into something stronger.

“…We made it to your cottage, I patched him up, and that’s when you came in,” you finish, leaning back into the arm of the cozy chaise lounge in your room. Portia had watched with rapt attention across from you as you told the story of your relationship with Julian, and now she looks contemplative.

“Wow,” she says a little quietly, crossing her arms, “how did I never notice you escaping from the palace so many times?”

You give her a sympathetic smile, “You’re pretty busy. I don’t blame you. Also, I never left if there was going to be anything you’d need me for. I wasn’t about to get caught so soon after being locked up all my life.”

Portia beams at you. “Well, I am happy for you, milord. I’m also happy for Ilya, he…” she purses her lips, “Well, he’s always pushing people away, and they usually give up faster than you did. I’m glad you’re in his corner.”

“Of course,” you perk up, “I’d like to help him as much as I can. He does so much for people but never expects anything in return. And he’s funny, and cute, and really cool sometimes, and…” You trail off when you notice Portia grinning wide at you. “What?”

“You really like him, don’t you?” she giggles, trying to smother it with her hand.

Your face burns with embarrassment. “I—…” Looking away, you confess quietly, “I think I love him, actually.”

“Oh my—Milord, that’s…” When you look at her again, she has her hand over her mouth and her face is a little pink. “That’s…adorable, but…” Then she bites her lip and slumps a little. “If you really love him, you’re going to have to tell him who you are eventually. You know that right?” She must notice your sudden panic because she waves her hands in front of herself, “I won’t tell him, don’t you worry about that, but it’s not really fair to keep it a secret. You need to tell him at some point.”

“…Do I?” you fidget with the sleeve of your shirt. Portia looks at you like you’re a reluctant child.

“Well, you’re safe for now since your parents are too paranoid to let anyone see you, but you’re going to become Count _some_ day, so it’s only a matter of time before he finds out one way or another.” You sigh; she’s right. “And besides that, if you ever want to, you know…” she blushes again, “… _be_ with him, then you _definitely_ can’t keep it a secret. I can’t let you break my brother’s heart like that.”

“ _B-be_ with him…” You look down at your lap, unable to hold eye contact while you mumble, “I don’t think that’ll ever happen. I doubt he’s actually interested in me, he always talks about how ‘innocent’ I am. I think he just flirts because it’s fun, not because… Well, it’s probably not serious.”

Portia’s giving you a very unamused look when you look up at her again. “If you say so. But please remember what I said about telling him. Better sooner than later. The longer you take, the more upset he’ll be.”

“…I’ll think about it.”

 

* * *

 

The next time you see Julian, the clinic actually has patients.

You’re surprised to hear pained groaning from down one of the halls, so, worried, you head towards the noise. Whatever the room you walk into is, it only has a single table high off the ground with a small table beside it, and there are several counters against the walls full of medical supplies; tools, herbs, salves, and an open book. On the table is a dainty looking woman with a grisly gash on her shoulder that Julian is currently suturing. His gloves and coat are wet with blood. To the side, you see Tilde who seems fine, but you notice the bandages around her waist. Tilde isn’t focusing on herself, though, she’s staring hard at the woman on the table. You wonder what their relationship is.

When he notices you, Julian only spares you a second's glance before returning to his work. All he says is, “Tilde,” shortly and the woman glares at him, then grunts an affirmative. She turns to you and heads out to the hallway, clearly expecting you to follow.

“Before y’ask,” she starts gruffly, “me an’ the wife got mugged earlier. We’ll be fine, and t’wasn’t that much we lost, but,” she sighs, “’M just worried. Y’know how it is.”

You nod, knowing exactly how she feels. At least when Julian was hurt you could actually do something about it. She must feel terrible only being able to watch. But you trust Julian’s skill, there’s no reason to think she won’t come out of this perfectly fine.

“He pro’bly kicked me out ‘cause I was ‘bout to lose it,” she continues. Then she looks at you critically. “Actually… Last I heard, Devorak told me he was gonna shoo y’off. Not complainin’, but what’re ye still doin’ ‘ere?”

“O-oh,” you rub the back of your neck awkwardly, “I…was just very stubborn.”

Tilde barks a laugh, then groans when it agitates her wounds. “He never was able t’resist the persistent types.”

The two of you exchange bits of small talk (how South End is doing, how the leech business is going, Tilde’s wife) for a while longer in the hallway outside the surgery room, but eventually both Julian and Tilde’s wife walk out. Tilde rushes her, but holds back from wrapping her arms around her at the last second so as not to exacerbate her injury.

As Tilde frets over her wife, Julian walks towards you, gloves free of blood but coat still stained. “I’m sorry for not greeting you properly, but duty calls. I have to say you didn’t have the best timing.” He raises an eyebrow.

You shrug, “It is how it is. They’ll be okay, right?”

Julian nods and smirks haughtily, “Of course they will, I am _very_ good at my job.” Then he leans against the wall with an arm next to you, placing his free hand on his hip. “Speaking of jobs; remind me, what’s yours?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you in the first place,” you point out with a laugh.

“Damn,” he says with a snap, “Almost got you there, though, didn’t I?”

“Doctor,” an airy voice comes from behind him. You both look over and see Tilde’s wife smiling sunnily at him. “Thank you for your care.”

“Yeah,” Tilde says, “let’s say I owe ye a discount next time y’need some leeches. Half off.”

“Oh? None for free then?” he jokes, crossing his arms. Tilde rolls her eyes at him, and starts shuffling her wife out of the clinic.

Then, the two of you head out to the lobby. Still nowhere to sit. Maybe now you could convince him to accept that bench? Maybe a couch? You turn to ask Julian about it, and see that he’s a lot closer than you expected. He’s staring at you with a playful little smile.

“I have to say, you are quite the tenacious man.” His voice is a little quiet, being so near to you.

“I wasn’t raised to back down from seemingly impossible tasks,” you reply. Future Counts can’t waver in the face of adversity. They had to be able to make hard choices and weather public opinion. You wonder how many of those lectures from your parents came from having to deal with the discontent from the poorer districts like South End.

“Raised, hm?” Of course he latched onto that. “And how _were_ you raised?” he asks, cupping his chin with one hand and raising a curious eyebrow.

You hesitate. A verbal parry is on the tip of your tongue, but Portia’s words come to your mind, unbidden. Maybe you _should_ tell him. It might be hard. It might hurt. You’re terrified that Julian might not forgive you for lying to him for so long. But it would definitely be better coming from you than someone else.

“Actually, Julian… I—”

The door to the clinic slams open then, startling the both of you. A large man crowds the door, panting and flustered.

“Doctor! There was a fight—the palace guard, they got into a fight with Romeo’s crew—”

Julian looks concerned, approaching the man with his arms crossed. “Where are they then? How many injured?”

“Just three. They’re on the way, Lawrence is helping them. Romeo’s not that bad off, he can still walk, but Abram and Benvolio took a couple bad hits. Everyone else scattered.” Today seems to be bad for the people of South End, two different attacks in the same day.

Julian nods, looking grave. After a moment of consideration, he looks up at you, smirking somehow despite the gravity of the situation. “Would you mind playing nurse? I could use some help, and John here has the dexterity of a donkey.”

John grumbles something unflattering while you reply. “Sure, I can try.”

While you wait for the injured individuals to arrive, Julian has you help him set up the surgery room. You’re still cleaning the table of Tilde’s wife’s blood when Julian arrives with a new batch of materials.

“All right, if it’s the guard they fought, it will probably only be sword wounds and arrows we have to worry about.” He takes a calming breath, then looks at you, “Shouldn’t be that hard. Just do as I say, and it should all work out fine.”

“They’re here, Doctor!”

When the three men come in, the first patient you and Julian tend to is the one named Abram. Julian walks you through removing an arrow while he works on one himself, and you bandage him quickly. It all leaves you a little rattled. You’re not used to seeing so much blood and so many fresh wounds, and every now and then the other two injured folks groan with pain, more weight piling on your shoulders every time you hear them.

You’re almost done patching up Abram when Julian speaks, voice oddly light. “You’re practically a natural at this, my dear.” He ties up his bandages and smiles at you. “Maybe I should take you on as a nurse part-time; you’d look great in the uniform,” he says with a wink.

Is he…? You stare at him with shock, hands pausing. Is he seriously _flirting_ with you? _Now_ , of all times? The absurdity of the situation makes you laugh, admittedly shakily, and you finish up bandaging Abram’s arm. “I think I’d be the most unreliable nurse you’d ever have.”

Abram gets up from the table and stumbles out of the room into Lawrence’s waiting arms. Benvolio is up next—he’s been victim to a stab wound in his side, and a gash on his calf. Julian leaves you to work on the smaller gash, while he goes about tending to the wound on his side. The two of you are quiet again until you finish bandaging his leg. Julian’s begun suturing the wound, hushing Benvolio whenever he whimpers from the pain. It’s harder for him to pay attention because of it, so you go about distracting and relaxing Benvolio.

“Hey,” you lean over him to get his attention, “Benvolio, right?” He nods once. You glance at Julian to see how much he has left to go. The doctor gives you an appreciative look. “You’re doing great, there’s just a little bit left, okay? Do you have family, Benvolio?”

He nods again. “Y-yeah, Romeo’s my cousin,” he jerks his head towards the only other man in the room. “This’s all his damn fault,” he says, but there’s no fire in his voice. Romeo still squawks, offended. “But I love him, so I gotta help him out when he gets in scrapes. Family, you know?”

By the time Benvolio’s finished talking, Julian’s finished suturing. After he wraps the bandages around the wound, he herds Benvolio out of the room, where John helps him.

Finally only Romeo remains, and his only injury is an arrow lodged in his shoulder; luckily far from any vital regions, according to Julian. While he handles it, he glances at you and smiles flirtatiously again. “You know, you have a wonderful bedside manner.”

“Thanks…?” For a second, you wonder if that’s all he’s going to say, but he continues.

“I’d love to experience it firsthand sometime.” You’re not sure if it was meant to be the double entendre it sounded like until he winks at you again. Your mouth opens and shuts while you try to think of a response, while Romeo starts giggling on the table.

“Wow, and I thought _I_ was bad.”

When all the men are patched up, they give Julian gratuitous thanks, and they promise him a few rounds next time they’re in the Raven. They leave with strict instructions on the proper care of their wounds, and once it’s empty and quiet again, Julian heaves a deep breath of relief.

“You did good. I mean it," he says, turning towards you. “It probably wouldn’t have been pretty if we didn’t get through them as fast as we did. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I had fun.” You frown, “Well, as much fun as you can have patching up some injured people.”

Julian laughs, “I understand.” But then his smile falls, and it’s replaced with something dark. “I can’t believe they…” he scoffs, “They’re here to _protect_ the people, not assault them. I know Romeo and them; they can be pranksters, sure, but nothing to start an armed brawl over. This was unwarranted.” He looks like he’s going to say something else, but he just shakes his head and starts pacing, hunched over with crossed arms.

You try desperately to think of something to say, but nothing comes to you. You can’t defend the sovereignty; not only do they likely not deserve it, but Julian probably wouldn’t take it well either. But there’s a part of you that can’t join in on his criticism. Perhaps it’s some kind of familial loyalty, like Benvolio mentioned. What you are sure of is that if you’re going to tell Julian who you are, it can’t be now. Not while his anger is so raw.

“Oh,” Julian straightens up, “you were going to tell me something earlier, before John showed up. What was it?” The interest in his eyes is bright, and you have to look away.

“It was…nothing. Not important.” Julian looks skeptical, but he lets it slide.

 

* * *

 

You’re just about to leave to visit Julian again a few days later when Portia stops you. She walks into the room as you change into your disguise, and she laughs. But then she tells you that the Count and Countess have called for you, and didn’t tell her what it was about. It’s certainly odd; your parents rarely spring things on you so suddenly like this. But regardless, you can’t ignore them. After changing back into your normal clothes, you go to see them.

They greet you when you enter, and there’s a few tense moments of silence before the Countess speaks.

“My son,” she says, smiling a little, “we have news. We have been giving it some heavy consideration of late. You’re an adult, and it isn’t fair of us to treat you like a child any longer. We hear your training with your bodyguard has been going well, so we also have no reason to fear for your safety.” She glances at the Count before finishing, “We are going to introduce you to Vesuvia.”

“Not to the entire city, not yet,” your father cuts in, “For now it will only be the residents of the Heart District, the nobility. We plan on taking it slowly. But come your next birthday, the day after tomorrow, we’ll be holding a celebration, for both your birthday and your introduction to the city.” The two of them stare at you expectantly.

You only blink at them with surprise (you knew about this already, didn’t you?) for a second before you realize; Lucio was the one who told you about the party some time ago, not them. They must have finally decided to go through with it. If you hadn’t seen the city, if Asra had never taught you that glamour spell, if you hadn’t met Julian, you would be ecstatic right now. You would practically jump for joy, and pull them into a big hug, thanking them until your voice went hoarse.

But now…now you just feel a little queasy. An extravagant party just for nobles, showing off a member of the sovereignty that’s been hidden from the common people all his life for his own safety… It’s a height of royal indulgence that was heretofore unknown to you.

That being said, you can’t act ungrateful or your parents will suspect something, so you pull on the biggest grin you can manage and bow. “Thank you, I look forward to it.”

When you make it back to your room, Portia can tell something is wrong. “What did they want you for?”

“I…” You drag a hand down your face and start changing into your disguise again. You want to meet up with Julian and put this party out of your mind. “They told me about my birthday party. They’re inviting the nobility, so people can see me for the first time.”

Portia seems a little confused, “Didn’t you want that?”

“I used to. But now, I just…” you groan, “It’s hard to put into words. But I don’t want to play nice with nobles. All they want is influence, they don’t actually care about anything but money. I want to meet the _real_ citizens of Vesuvia.” Portia doesn’t reply with anything but a hum of acknowledgement. When you’re finished changing, you ask, “Do you want to come with me?”

“To visit Ilya?” She seems surprised you’re inviting her. You nod. She groans, “As much as I want to, I’ve got a hundred and one things to do today. I’ll visit him tomorrow though.” On that note, she leaves, and so do you, making your way to Goldgrave.

 

* * *

 

When you get to Julian’s clinic, he’s on his way out the door, pulling his overcoat over his shoulders with a whirl. You’re about to call out to him when you see him turn into an alley. You follow him, wondering where he’s going. When you’re just outside the alley, you hear him talking to someone. The voice of the other person sounds familiar, and then you realize it’s Balthasar, the palace servant.

“—after tomorrow. It took some time getting you on the list, sorry it’s so short notice.”

You hear Julian laugh, “It’s not a problem. Better than having to sneak in as a servant. Uh, no offense.”

Balthasar grumbles, but then he gives Julian a farewell, and you hear him walk away. Then Julian comes out, almost bumping into you.

“Oh, you’re here.” Julian grins, “I was actually hoping you’d come today. See,” he wraps an arm around your shoulders and starts leading you down the street, “I don’t know if you remember this, but some time ago, the madame at the theater promised us the best seats in the house for a play. They’re putting one on in just a couple hours, if you’re interested?”

He’s trying to sound nonchalant, but you can feel his hand on your shoulder tensing a little. Is he nervous? You’re not sure why he would be; why would you say no to a play?

“Sure,” you say warmly, then admit, “I’ve never seen one before, to be honest.” Well, there were a couple performances in the palace, but nothing as magnificent and colorful as the Goldgrave theater would likely put on.

Julian almost trips and looks at you, dumbfounded. “Really? _Never_?” He huffs, “Well, now you _definitely_ have to see it. The one they’re putting on is one of my favorites.” He starts giving you a summary, something about a gentleman thief that both frustrates the guard and helps the people—at which he waggles his eyebrows at you self-referentially—as well as trying to woo their true love. It sounds delightful, a story of intrigue, drama, and romance. You can’t deny there’s a small part of you that’s a little giddy about watching something like that with Julian, just the two of you.

The madame is at the door greeting guests when you make it to the theater, and she looks thrilled to see you. She quickly excuses herself from the conversation she was in and rushes over as fast as she can in her tight dress. “Julian!” she kisses him on the cheek, then looks at you and giggles as she kisses you on the cheek too, “And his beau!”

Both you and Julian flush. “L-like I said, madame, he’s not—”

But she’s not paying attention to him, and continues on anyway. “You’re just in time! I was about to give your seats away.” Then she hustles the two of you in, and you have to agree; they _are_ the best seats in the house. They’re in a private box higher up than the floor seats, and it gives one a great view of the entire stage.

The play, when it starts, is grander than you expected. The leading character is passionate and charming, and their love interest, the princess of the kingdom, is more important to the story than Julian had led you to believe. The two of them overhear a plot to overthrow the monarchy, and the ensuing struggle to protect both it and each other is enthralling.

Multiple times you find yourself on the edge of your seat, not even daring to blink lest you miss a single detail. Julian chuckles a couple times when you gasp loudly at some twist or turn, but at the end, while you tear up at the beautiful, love-filled happy ending, you notice him crying, and a lot more than you. He tries to hide it, and attempts to very subtly blows his nose into a handkerchief, but he doesn’t do a very good job of it.

When the two of you leave the theater after a lengthy discussion about the play with the madame and a lengthier goodbye, it’s almost sunset. But you decide to walk Julian home—surely it couldn’t hurt to get home a little bit later than usual?

The two of you spend most of the walk to Julian’s clinic in companionable silence, but as you get nearer to the neighborhood, he strikes up conversation.

“I’ve got a pretty high stakes heist coming up soon,” he drawls with a grin, “It’ll be pretty dangerous.”

You look at him curiously, “What kind of heist? Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, I _am_ a professional. And I can’t really go into the particulars, obviously, who knows what you’d do with the information.” For a second, you’re upset he thinks you would ever betray him, but then he laughs and you realize he’s joking. Then he shrugs and looks up at the sky, “I’ll tell you all about it when I come back successful.” He smiles down at you, “And thanks, by the way. You know, for the suit. It’s a big help.”

“Of course,” you say, pleased as punch. “So, does that mean I can convince you to accept another gift?”

His smile falls and he narrows his eyes at you. “Depends on what it is.”

“Well, there’s not really a place to sit in your lobby…” You laugh when his jaw drops.

“You’re not getting me a couch.”

“I would if you’d just let me,” you say, eyeing him determinedly. “Would it help if I said it was just as much for me and your patients as it is for you?”

Eventually you wear him down enough to relent, and you tell him you’ll help him find a good one the next time you see him.

 

‘The next time you see him’ comes sooner than you expected, and it's certainly not to buy a couch. For the first time, the only feeling you have when you meet his eyes is a cold hard pit in your stomach.

 

* * *

 

The day of the party, you spend most of the morning getting prepared for it. You bathe, eat a hearty breakfast since you won’t be able to have lunch, then spend almost an hour being briefed on the schedule for the party. Lucio also approaches you, double-checking whether or not you’ll be his date. You reject him again, and escape as quickly as you can before he can try and 'change your mind.'

The odd thing is that Portia doesn’t get much time with you, despite being your handmaiden. Somehow she was roped into party preparation duty. You don’t see her until the afternoon, when she bursts into your room saying, “We need to talk, _right now_.”

You look at her with confusion. “About what?” Is there something wrong? Based on Portia’s bearing, it seems more personal than some notice or memorandum.

“About the party. Last night, when I was visiting—”

Unfortunately, whatever she was going to say is interrupted by another servant entering and informing you that your parents are requesting your presence. You’re escorted out before Portia can tell you whatever it was she was so panicked about. She looks pale when you leave the room.

You’re concerned about her, but your parents spend the next hour with you going over all the noble guests that will be attending the party and you eventually forget about it. The names all blur together at some point, but you’ve always been good at improvising, so you’re sure it will be fine. If they’re anything like you expect, the nobles will likely introduce themselves anyway to make as big of an impression on you as possible.

(One of the names, you notice with a small laugh under your breath is the name of the protagonist in the play you saw with Julian. What a funny coincidence.)

When you finally make your way out of your parents’ office, you’re accosted by Portia again.

“Milord, this is important, I have to warn you—”

She’s interrupted once more by two seamstresses that drag you away for your dressing. Portia looks like she almost wants to chase after you, but she doesn’t and just starts walking the down another hall, wringing her sash in her hands.

The dressing takes so much longer than you’d expected. Before even actually putting on the clothes, a servant does your hair, brushing it and styling it to royal perfection. Then there’s the make up, not too much, ‘just enough to highlight your already enchanting face, Your Grace.’ And when you get to the actual clothing, there’s so many complex pieces that have to be put on just so, and there’s so many tiny adjustments the seamstresses have to make to make the outfit _just right_ , that you end up sore from standing still for so long.

Muriel comes in near the end carrying a small leather package. He waits until the seamstresses leave before he reveals its contents; a stiletto dagger, perfectly sized to be hidden in your boot.

“The Count and Countess told me to give you this.” He looks decidedly unimpressed. “Just in case, they said.” There’s a substantial pause before he asks, “You remember how to use it, right?”

“Yes, I do. Thank you, Muriel.”

Once more, Portia is there when you’re finally finished getting dressed. You’re starting to get very worried about whatever this urgent thing she has to tell you is.

“ _Milord_ ,” she whines, “you _have_ to know—”

And once again, she’s interrupted, this time by a loud gong and the beginning of an orchestral performance from the ballroom. It’s time to begin the party. You sigh and start walking towards the room, and say over your shoulder, “I’m sorry, Portia, I’m sure whatever it is can wait until after the reveal.”

She makes a small desperate whimper, but she doesn’t follow you. You think you can hear her mutter, “It _can’t_ …” and you want to ask her what it is, but you also can’t be late.

When you make it just outside the door to the upper level of the ballroom, a servant is there to let you know your cue. You can hear your parents begin to calm down the guests, and begin their speech.

“Esteemed guests,” that’s your mother, “We are honored that you could make an appearance tonight of all nights. As you all know, today is a special occasion; the birthday of our son, the Prince of Vesuvia.”

Your father goes on to say, “We have kept him safe in the palace for some time, and it’s been decided that he’s finally ready to meet face to face with his people. He’s grown into a fine young man. Intelligent, passionate, steadfast—someone to inspire. Someone we look forward to passing the mantle to.”

Your parents drone on for some time. It gets a little tiresome, so you start tuning it out, instead going over what it is you must do when you walk out; greet the guests, tell them how glad you are to finally meet everyone, then entertain them until the party ends. You append ‘avoid Lucio’ and ‘sneak out of the party for a break when no one’s paying attention’ to your list.

Finally, the servant opens the door for you, and you take a lungful of breath before striding out with princely poise. When you reach the top of the stairs, you bow deeply.

“People of Vesuvia—” you start as you come to a stand, before your voice momentarily gets lodged in your throat.

It’s all you can do to continue speaking, though your voice has lost your earlier confidence. Your heart has fallen like a heavy fruit into your stomach, it’s difficult to breathe, and you feel a little light-headed. Because there, in the audience near the back, you see, to your complete and abject despair, Julian, shock and betrayal clear on his face.

He looks amazing, of course. You can’t take your wide open eyes off him the entire time you speak. His hair looks like it’s been brushed with more than just his fingers, and the fine attire you bought him looks just as good now as it did when you first saw him in it. Even if you had never met him before this party, your eye would still be drawn to him, and you’re sure you’d trail after him like a besotted puppy, drunk on his natural charisma.

But that’s all secondary to the pain marring his pretty face—to the wide eyes, furrowed brows, and slightly parted lips, curled down at the corners. As you near the end of your tenuous greeting, he finally seems to snap out of it, and his expression of shock falls into something more self-deprecating and furious. You thought you couldn’t feel worse, but that does it for you.

The moment you finish speaking, you make your way down the stairs, giving curt acknowledgements to the nobles that approach you first. You try to make your way through the crowd towards Julian, but it’s difficult. The throng of nobles part just enough for you to get a peek of him, and you see him storm out of the room, through a small door leading deeper into the palace.

You have to find him, you can’t just let him go without explaining. When you finally extract yourself, you make an excuse, “I have to use the facilities, my apologies,” before rushing after Julian.

Pushing open the door, you look around frantically for even a hint of which direction Julian went in. You don’t see him, but you do notice a small black feather on the ground of the hallway leading left.

You run down the hall after him. It can’t end like this.

 

* * *

 

Julian, as he entered the ballroom, took in the skillfully crafted architecture of the Vesuvian palace. It was certainly nice to look at, and he carefully observed all of it, noting every detail. Later on, when next he saw his secretive friend, he would tell him all about it.

At the thought of him, Julian couldn’t stop the smile curving up his lips. He imagined the delighted and enraptured expression on his face as Julian would later regale him with the story of his heist—the beauty of the palace, the dramatic tension of his thieving, and his eventual success and climactic escape—and his heart skipped a beat. Would he be happy and proud? Would he be worried about Julian, even though he’d be just fine? Both? Julian could admit to himself that he hoped it was both.

The finger food on the tables lining the edge of the ballroom was delicious, as to be expected. He wished he could take some home for later, but it would probably look too suspicious. Still, he helped himself to plenty of it while he had the opportunity.

He wasn’t approached by many nobles while everyone was mingling. There was one noble who fanned their pink face with an overdecorated and cumbersome-looking fan that seemed clearly attracted to him, but he kindly turned them down before they could get their hopes up, and they skittered away. He had far more interest in a certain innocent and charming man that didn’t take no for an answer.

This party, according to Balthasar was meant to be a birthday party for the mysterious Prince of Vesuvia. Julian was, as anyone in Vesuvia was, certainly intrigued by his hidden identity. And the overprotective sovereignty keeping him from the public only heightened people’s curiosity in him—quite counterproductive.

Still, whatever he was like, Julian was sure all he really amounted to was a spoiled brat that didn’t know a single thing outside the palace walls. The most important thing about him, as far as Julian was concerned, was that his arrival would distract everyone in the room. It shouldn’t be too hard to quietly slip out and make his way to the treasury. Then after that, he would sneak to the palace grounds, and to Pasha's cottage to hide out for the night until he could make it back to Goldgrave.

It was a good plan, and Julian was nothing if not thorough. …Well, when it came to heists and surgeries, anyway.

Suddenly, there was a loud strike of a gong, and the small orchestra in the corner began playing. The acoustics in the room were amazing, and the music was as grand as anything else in the palace. The Count and Countess arrived, and began speaking, flowery words dedicated to their precious son. Julian crossed his arms and listened, waiting for the prince himself to show up.

Finally they introduced him, and when they said his name, Julian was surprised to hear it was coincidentally the same one as his friend’s. And then he was stunned to see the man himself come out and give a bow. His plan, his entire reason for coming, immediately flew from his head.

He was the prince all along…?

Julian’s mind stuttered and went blank as he watched the prince give his welcome address. He saw the exact moment the prince noticed he was there, and they stared at each other throughout the entire speech—Julian with shock and the prince with anxious regret.

The moment he finished speaking, he all but rushed down the stairs and tried to get through the crowd, but Julian finally kick-started his brain back into gear. He was the prince all along and Julian never realized it, never even _considered_ it. How could Julian let him get so close? How could he accept his friendship, fall for him so quickly, _trust_ him, and not even suspect for a moment that he could have just as likely been a member of the sovereignty as he could be anything else? Now it was quite obvious where he got all his money.

Julian’s hands clenched tight. The prince was close to reaching him, and if he tried to talk, there’d be too much attention on him and he wouldn’t get a chance to complete the theft. He needed to get out soon, needed to get on with his plan already, finish the heist so he could tell _someone else_ about it and try not to think of how easily he was betrayed.

When he made it out of the room and into an empty hallway, he wiped roughly at his eyes and pretended his tears were from a heretofore unknown allergy to the dumb feathers on his stupidly expensive suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrow, sorry that got sad, but you know. The Tower and all that :^))) Next chapter, chapter Ⅴ, Strength, will come out, uhh. Well. You know. Soon. I've been updating this like every 2 days or so.
> 
> By the way, y'all, I was this 👌 close to drawing like, 2 different really sad Julians for this before I decided. No. I wouldn't draw him so sad ever again. But now I feel bad for drawing him happy because it just makes the sad part sadder.
> 
> (Tbh I don't really like how this chapter came out, but I was so sad about writing it and so excited to get to the next chapter (the next chapter is one of the like, 2 reasons I started writing this in the first place) that it. Just came out like this. Blrgh. *Magnus Burnsides voice* It's not perfect but it's the best I can do.)


	5. Ⅴ - Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Strength, one can perform great feats and have the endurance to withstand terrible dangers. Though you struggle to persevere, you are able to remain calm and face your troubles head on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, you may be wondering. Why did this one take so long compared to the other chapters despite being shorter than all of them. Well, I’m here to tell you. It’s because I spent an entire day drawing the main cast with Pokémon and ended up fucking up one of my fingers so bad I couldn't draw this chapter's picture for A While. Also because suddenly people wanted to play video games with me and what am I supposed to do? Say no???

As you dash through the halls, you keep your eyes out for Julian. Eventually you hear a pounding noise, and you rush quickly towards it. Is that Julian? Is he okay? After turning around a corner, you finally see him, faced away from you and hunched over with his fist against the wall.

“Julian—” you start, but your words die in your throat when he spins around, hesitates for only a moment, and starts walking towards you. His draws are drawn harshly down, and he’s glaring at you in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Was it all just a game to you?” he asks harshly, “Running around, playing with the commoners, all those gifts—and for what?” He gets in your personal space and leans down. If he wasn’t so angry, you’d wonder if he was about to kiss you. “A way to rebel against your overbearing parents? Just for _fun_?”

“No!” you blurt, “It wasn’t like that!”

He scoffs and stands up straight again, crossing his arms, “I’m sure. Why should I believe anything you say? You’ve lied to me plenty before.”

“I-I didn’t _lie_ , I just…didn’t tell you.” It’s a weak excuse and you know it.

“A lie of omission is still a lie, _Your Grace_.” The title hurts, and what hurts even more was that it was meant to.

You take a deep breath, and look up at him honestly. “Listen, I know I should have been honest with you. But I’ve always cared about you; about Tilde, Mazelinka, everyone. I might have lied about some things, but _never_ that.” He still doesn’t look like he believes you. How can you convince him otherwise? Then an idea comes to mind. “I can prove it. I’ll help you.”

At that, his anger abates into surprise. “Help…?”

You nod. “With the heist. If you get caught, or something happens, I can cover for you. And you might have an idea how to navigate the palace, but you’ve never actually been here before. I _live_ here; I know it like the back of my hand.” He looks suspicious again, but he has an eyebrow raised, so you hope he’s at least considering it. “You’re going to look for the Treasury, right? I can take you there, and help you get out.”

Julian is quiet for a moment, then sighs. “And how can I trust you?” He doesn’t sound angry. He sounds sad—heartbroken. The guilt you’ve been trying to push down returns tenfold; you’ve betrayed his trust, and you know it won’t be easy to get it back. But you have to _try_. ‘ _The course of true love never did run smooth_.’

“You can’t. And maybe I didn’t deserve it in the first place,” you admit quietly, “But I hope you will anyway. Just…give me one chance. If I can’t change your mind…you never have to see me again.” The thought of never seeing him again terrifies you, but you’re on the precipice now. A leap of faith is the only choice you have left.

While he thinks, his eyes lock onto your face critically and you resist the urge to look away. But finally he sighs again, and his arms fall to his sides. “Fine. But you have to follow my lead, all right? I’d like to avoid us getting caught at all if possible.”

You feel yourself sag with relief. “Thank you, Julian. And I’m sorry.”

His glare is back, but there’s less heat in it. “I haven’t forgiven you yet.” But he looks away and bites his lip before saying, “But if you’re being honest, then…maybe I’ll reconsider. Maybe.” It’s better than no chance at all. A smile crosses your face unbidden. “A-anyway, so, where’s the Treasury then?”

You hum, trying to figure out exactly where you are. There’s a parlor near the end of this hall, and a secret servant’s tunnel that leads to the kitchens on the wall opposite to the one you and Julian stand near. The Treasury would be some ways south of here. You unconsciously reach out to take Julian’s hand and start leading him towards your goal.

“Y-you don’t have to hold my hand, you know,” he points out, and you release him, flustered. The action was so natural that you didn’t even realize you’d done it.

“Right…”

As you lead him towards the Treasury, keeping an eye out for servants or guards, you remain mostly silent. Despite his claim to be in charge here, he’s the one following you. It’s a little bit satisfying being the one leading him around for once. You might not know your way around the city, but now he’s the one depending on you to navigate.

“Wait!” he hisses, grabbing you by the elbow and yanking you back. Then you hear it; there’s footsteps coming by. You and Julian hold your breaths, hoping they don’t notice you. Luckily, the servant doesn’t turn down your hall, and you remain unnoticed.

As the two of you continue on your way, Julian mutters from behind you, “I can’t believe you hid this from me all that time.” When you look over your shoulder at him, he’s grimacing like he didn’t mean to say that out loud. Still, you reply to him.

“I _am_ sorry. But in my defense, you made it quite clear that you hate the sovereignty. I didn’t want you to hate _me_ too.”

“That’s…” he sounds like he’s going to argue with you, but then he huffs, “I guess you have a fair point.”

You stop him when you near the Courtier’s Wing. For a moment, you consider your options. What kind of excuse could you come up with for being so far from the party in your honor should someone catch you? Julian tries to get your attention by whispering your name, but you hold up a finger. Maybe you could… You glance at Julian, and he looks on edge, looking around with pursed lips. Your gaze lingers on his mouth, and your face flushes with heat. …Maybe that should be a last resort.

Finally you continue on your way to the Treasury. There’s a few more guards here, but that doesn’t surprise you. Most of the courtiers decided not to attend your party, Nadia included. You’re not sure if it’s out of duty to the city or if they simply don’t want to deal with the nobility. (You get the feeling that for Nadia at least, it’s the latter.) After looking around another corner to see if anyone’s there, you gesture for Julian to move on ahead of you. You’re about to follow when suddenly you hear someone call out to you from behind, and your blood runs cold with panic. You know that voice.

“Quaestor Lucio,” you greet, only the slightest quiver in your voice. He must have left the party early to return to his office or something. You wonder if he intends to work or if he was just bored. He approaches you with a dangerous looking smile on his face.

“What a surprise to see you here. You left so suddenly, too. Looking for someone?” The way he asks that makes you think he’s referring to himself specifically. Still, there’s a part of you that’s somewhat thankful for an opening.

“Um, yes, I…” you pause, trying to think of some reason you could need him, “I wanted to talk to you in private.”

“You could have just asked me in the ballroom, you know,” he says, entirely too haughty, “No sneaking about required.”

“I-I… You’re right, I was just…” you cringe internally at what you’re about to ask, “…a little nervous?”

He looks interested at that, and he lifts a single brow. “And what has you so nervous?”

“I wanted to talk to you about, um…” You bite your lip. This is for Julian, you remind yourself. “Maybe…tomorrow if you’re, ah, not busy…if you wanted to take a walk in the garden?” You hope he buys it, your performance wasn’t exactly top tier.

Somehow, though, he does. “My, Your Grace, that’s rather forward of you,” he purrs, reaching over to gently trace your jaw with a claw. “I’d love to. How does the afternoon sound?”

“It sounds—” _terrible_ , “—wonderful. I’ll…see you then?”

“I’ll see you then.” Then, mercifully, he leaves, and not in the direction Julian had gone. …Julian. You finally go around the corner and see him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed again. When he looks at you, his expression is carefully blank.

“Interested in him, are you?” he asks, his tone not as teasing as his words sound. “Didn’t know he was your type.” There’s something weird about his bearing, a little tense, but you’re less worried about that than you are about his assumption in your taste in men.

You groan. “Absolutely _not_. I just…couldn’t think of anything else. It was a necessary sacrifice.”

Julian snickers a little, relaxing a bit, and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. “I don’t blame you. Lucio’s never been the most pleasant company.”

You pick up on his particular word choice. “Have you met him before?”

“Ah,” he waves a hand around uselessly, “you remember when I said I was a battlefield medic?” He continues when you nod, “One of those battlefields was one Lucio fought in. His arm got torn to shreds, so I had to amputate it or he would bleed out.”

“ _You’re_ the one who did that?” you ask, surprised.

“I’m the one that cut it off, yes,” he rubs his chin, “but I don’t know where he got the new one…”

The two of you travel a little longer down the hallways of the palace. There’s another close call though, and you both have to hide in what you believe is a supply closet of some kind. It’s dark, and you almost trip on something, anyway. You both let out sighs of relief when the footsteps fade away, but just as you go to open the door again, you hear them coming back, and directly towards your location.

There is absolutely no excuse for you to be in this closet. Not a single one you can think of other than… Well, it’s the only thing you can think of, and you’re running out of time. Your heart starts fluttering anxiously as you start mussing your hair and undoing the first few buttons of your top.

Julian, of course, can’t see what you’re doing. “Listen,” he says gravely, “you’ve proven your point, and I forgive you.” Why does he sound like he’s about to…? You hear him walk towards the door. “I’m going to go out there and distract them, and you’re going to stay in here and hide until it's clear. I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.”

You scoff and yank him over to start working on him. As you ruffle his hair, you whisper, “That’s a terrible idea; I don’t want you to get _arrested_ because of me,” and start undoing his cravat, and pulling open his jacket, vest, and a little bit of his dress shirt.

“You don’t have to worry, it’s not hard to dodge the palace guard, and—and _what exactly are you doing_ —”

The way his voice starts squeaking at the end is cute, but the footsteps are getting even closer, so you don’t have the time to appreciate it. You figure what you’ve done should be good enough, and, taking a quick breath, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss. Julian’s shocked noise is muffled against your lips, but after a second’s hesitation, he starts kissing you back, sliding his ever so slightly shaking hands around to and up your back.

The kiss is as wonderful as you’ve ever imagined it to be and more. Julian clearly has some kind of experience with things like this, but what you lack in finesse, you make up for with zeal. You part your lips just slightly so you can lick against his, and the startled little whimper he makes increases your body temperature a few degrees.

But then the door opens, flooding the closet with light, and you savor the taste of Julian’s lips for just one more moment before jerking away from him with mock surprise. The servant in the doorway yelps and drops his basket of fresh linens.

“Y-Your Grace! I’m so sorry, I—” He shuts up when you put up a hand.

“It’s all right, just, um. Don’t tell anyone, will you?” The servant nods, picking his basket back up, quickly placing it on a shelf, and leaving. The door is left half open, so enough light filters in that you can see Julian’s face. He has a hand up to his red and slightly wet lips and he’s staring into space a little, eyes wide and cheeks pink. When he notices you’re looking at him, his hand quickly drops and he clears his throat.

“Uh… So…” he coughs a little, “shall we move on, then?”

You kind of want to talk about the kiss, but he’s right; there are more important things to worry about right now. Nodding, you push the door open wider, peeking out to see if the servant has gone. When the coast is clear, the two of you sneak out, and return to your mission.

It doesn’t take much longer to reach the Treasury. Getting there is easy; it’s the getting _in_ that proves to be a challenge. In front of the entryway stand two guards, and every now and then, two more circle the hallway outside. Julian groans and mumbles, “Of course it can’t be that easy.” He looks at you and asks, “Any idea how to get around this?”

Watching the guards rotate once more, you examine the situation. You certainly can’t abuse your authority here and ask them to just let you pass. Someone will notice the missing funds eventually, and if the guards tell your parents you were there, they’d suspect you of helping the thief. As far as you know, there are also no secret doors here. Unless…

“I might have something. Give me a second.” You take a deep breath and shut your eyes, casting out your magic throughout the halls surrounding the Treasury. Julian asks what you’re doing but you ignore him, trying to focus for any possible magic doorways. And there—there’s one, in the opposite hall around the Treasury to the one you’re in. You wonder what the reason for its existence could possibly be, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Follow me,” you whisper, waiting for the rotating guards to pass a safe distance by before following them.

Julian doesn’t hesitate, but you can tell he’s nervous. The two of you sneak as quietly as you can, and when you finally reach the magic door, you suffuse it with your magic. After glowing briefly, the bricks and plaster shimmer and ripple, turning translucent. You take Julian’s arm and tug him inside.

Once you’re in and the wall has returned to normal, you notice him staring at you bug-eyed. You raise an eyebrow, “What?”

“I didn’t know you could do magic,” he says over-casually, walking forward into the room. “You don't really act like a magician…”

“Well… My aunt is the Court Magician, and I always thought she was amazing,” you trail after him. Whatever part of the Treasury you’re in is dark, so you summon a ball of light so you can see where you’re going. He looks apprehensively at it, but doesn’t say anything. “I begged my parents to let her teach me, and they eventually said yes.”

After traveling a little farther in, you enter a large room, what must make up most of the Treasury. It’s large and circular, and you can see a winding staircase lining the curved walls. The walls themselves are covered in shelves filled with books and scrolls of differing sizes and colors. Along the bottom floor of the room is several glass cases full of jewelry, and beneath those, cabinets and drawers that, when you open one out of curiosity, you see are full of chests of coins that vary in size.

You and Julian poke around the room, investigating it carefully. Julian mutters to himself while he takes note of all the valuables, and when you’ve finished combing through it all, he clears his throat. “This…is a lot of treasure.”

“It certainly is,” you say, chuckling, “I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen the inside of the Treasury before.” Then something occurs to you. “How are you going to take all this?” When you look at him, you see him reaching for something around his back and underneath his jacket. Your eyes widen when you see him pull out a carefully folded sack. “How did you…?”

He grins. “Practice.” He unfolds it and shakes it a few times to open it properly. “Also, I don’t plan to steal _all_ of it. First of all, it wouldn’t do to steal _all_ of the sovereignty’s money. Much too traceable. And second of all, it wouldn’t fit.”

You nod and gesture to the cases, “Do you need help?” When he shakes his head, you hum, and start poking around at the shelves of books and scrolls. There’s a small desk next to the bottom of the staircase with a large ledger on it. You skim over the page it’s open to.

It’s mostly what you’d expect. Records of the food costs, guard and servant paychecks, the price of imports, the gains of exports, and et cetera. It’s things you’ve learned about with your economics tutor that made your eyes glaze over, and you’re about to move on from it when you see an unusually high sum going into something labeled “Publican Fees.” Your brows furrow; as far as you know, the tax collectors aren’t meant to be paid much more than the guards or servants, and there weren’t so many in service that it would add up to such a grand total. With mounting suspicion, you flip some pages back to a couple weeks ago, and there it is again, “Publican Fees” with an absurdly high quantity beside it.

Where is all that money going? Is…someone embezzling from the palace? Does the Quaestor know about this? Do your _parents_? These questions float through your mind, and theory upon half-formed theory spring up.

But then Julian quietly calls your attention, and you look over to him. The sack is casually slung over his shoulder, not too big as to be unwieldy, but certainly worth more that anything he’d get from a collector, or even a noble. You set aside your concerns about the ledger for now. Right now, all you need to focus on is getting Julian out safely.

“What was your original plan for getting out of here?” you ask him.

“Well, after I’d gotten everything I could, I was going to try and make it to Pasha’s. Do you have something else in mind?”

You shake your head, “The palace grounds aren’t too far away. It shouldn’t be hard to get you there. But as soon as you’re in the clear, I have to return to the party. I’ve been gone long enough as it is…”

Julian seems surprised for a second. “Ah, right, the party…” Did he…forget about it? “A-anyway, let’s go.”

As the two of leave back through the magic door, you sneak out the nearest hallway you can manage to avoid the rotating guards. It’s close, but you make it, darting into another hall. You both breathe a sigh of relief, but then you begin to hear voices from not far away.

“…wish I could get this over with already, Vulgora.” That’s Quaestor Lucio… And is he talking to Pontifex Vulgora? “The Count and Countess are so _useless_. The people need someone _better_.”

“Oh, yes,” Vulgora replies, and you can hear the vicious grin in her voice, “you would make such a finer Count.” What are they _talking_ about? You glance at Julian and he looks just as shocked as you are.

Lucio laughs, “Of course I would. I suppose I shouldn’t be so impatient. It’s only a matter of time until I can finally deal with them and take Vesuvia myself.” Then he hums, “Perhaps I’ll spare the little prince as long as he does as I say.” Your blood runs cold. Deal with them? What exactly does he mean by that? Is Lucio planning a _coup_? You remember the ledger, and wonder if the “Publican Fees” have anything to do with it.

Julian reaches over and puts a hand on your shoulder, leaning over so he can whisper into your ear, “We have to get out of here.” He’s right, of course. Lucio or Vulgora could leave and catch the two of you at any second, and you’re so close. You continue towards the palace grounds.

After some time of walking, you hesitantly get his attention. “Julian, I…” The two of you are in an empty hallway now, but you still keep your voice low, “Do you think Lucio was serious about what he said? That he’s going to actually try and overthrow my parents?”

The look on Julian’s face is not very comforting. “If he’s anything like I remember, I… Well, I’m surprised he hasn’t already.” But he tries to smile anyway, “Look at it this way, though: now we know. We can do something to stop him.”

“Stop him?” you ask, a little surprised. “You would do that?”

He nods. “I might have my issues with the sovereignty, but I’d rather have your parents over _Lucio_ any day.” Then he blushes a little and looks away, “Besides…it’s important to you.”

A small giggle escapes you, “Thank you, Julian. That means a lot.” Your heart feels full to bursting when he smiles at you for real.

“We can figure out how to take him down next time you have a chance to come see me. But for now, we have to leave.”

As you thought, there’s an open wall to the veranda leading down to the hedge maze only a few minutes’ walk away, and you lead him through it to a field at the edge of the grounds. You don’t know exactly which direction Portia’s cottage is in, but Julian seems to. When you make it to a door you never knew existed, Julian stops, then whirls on his heel to face you.

“We _did it_ ,” he says, elated and laughing. His sack falls to the ground beside him and he grasps your shoulders. “I can’t believe you helped me steal from the palace right under their _noses_! I’d probably have gotten caught three times over if it weren’t for you.”

You grin back at him. “Yeah, I guess we did. I was glad to help. I—” you glance away for him for a moment, unsure, “I hope I proved myself to you. That I care about you and everything. I’d never try to hurt you like that, Julian, I just…”

He waves a hand, “All is forgiven. I understand why you did it.” Then he smirks, “You know, you aren’t half bad at this thieving thing. Ever think about doing it professionally? We could be partners. What do you think?”

The idea of going on heists with Julian, _being partners_ , makes your heart beat loudly in your chest. He trusts you enough for that? Despite what you did? Tonight was scary, and you were almost caught a few times. Since it was the palace, you were safe enough from any possible consequences, but in the house of a noble, you may not be afforded the same leniency. And it’s going to require even more skill and cunning than the two of you managed tonight if you’re going to do anything like trying to stop Lucio. But somehow…you’re excited. As dangerous as it all was, it was also thrilling, and you find yourself eager to do it all again.

“I’d, uh. I’d like that,” you admit shyly.

Julian cackles, “Good to hear!” then wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tight and nearly lifting you off the ground. When he loosens his grip, one of his hands moves up to your jaw, he tilts your head up just so, and he gives you a quick but solid kiss on the mouth. The moment his lips press against yours, you inhale sharply through your nose and freeze. He doesn’t seem to notice, though, and pulls away, still grinning.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow, prince—but I’ll see you again,” he says with a quick salute as he throws his sack back over his shoulder, then turns and makes his way through the door to Portia’s cottage.

You spend the next couple minutes standing still in the garden, staring blankly at the spot Julian just occupied. Did he… Did he _mean_ to kiss you? When you kissed him, it was just to keep the two of you from getting caught. Was his a spur of the moment, 'I-can't-believe-we-made-it' kiss, or was it for some other reason? Is it possible he likes you too? But wouldn’t he have told you if that was what it was? Your entire walk back to the party is filled with the same question repeating over and over in your mind.

‘ _Did he mean it?_ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what kinda antics these kids will get into next time! :^) Check it out in chapter Ⅵ, the Chariot, coming soon to…coming soon!!!
> 
> EDIT: I removed the illustrations from the fic because, tbh, I really hated how they came out, lol. I _might_ redraw them or just edit them or something, but until then, no pics for the chapters, including this one. 😔 My b, y'all.


	6. Ⅵ - The Chariot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Chariot, one can maneuver many winding roads and diversions while maintaining focus on their ultimate objective. With confidence and determination, any obstruction can be overcome, and any goal reached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S o r r y this took so damn long. I was really busy last week and also got distracted by a lot of stuff, BUT!!! It's complete!! There's only one more chapter left, and then the epilogue! 👏

It’s some time before you can leave the palace again. Not because suddenly your schedule becomes more busy, but because ever since the night of the party, your parents have gone on high alert. The theft at the Treasury made them even more paranoid than they’ve ever been. You don’t think you’ve gone a single second outside your room without Muriel or someone else by your side. It’s frustrating not only because you want to see Julian, but you also can’t work on stopping Lucio’s coup if you can’t even leave anyone’s sight.

About a week and a half passes before, one morning, as you’re just finishing getting ready for the day, Asra and Portia enter your room looking oddly excited, followed by an ever stoic Muriel. Portia’s wheeling in a waist high cart with a cotton white tablecloth covering it. You stare at them bemused. What’s going on here?

“Your Grace,” Asra starts, smiling in that mischievous way he does, “you’re relieved for the day.”

“Huh?”

Portia pipes up, “We’re busting you out of here! You’ve been so tense lately—you want to see him, don’t you?” You silently thank Portia for at least refraining from using his name, while you also flush a little at her (very correct) assumption. Of course it’s not just about getting the chance to see him again, but you haven’t told anyone about Lucio’s plan yet. Now is as good a time as any, you figure.

“Thanks, you guys, but,” you lower your voice a little, “it’s more than just seeing him. The night of the party…we overheard Quaestor Lucio talking to Pontifex Vulgora. They were talking about something…something about Lucio taking over the sovereignty.” Asra’s eyes widen and Portia gasps. Muriel tenses and he’s got a stormy look on his face. “They didn’t talk about any details, so we were going to think of a plan to stop him next time I got the chance to sneak out.” You run a hand through your hair, troubled. “But it’s been a while… I hope we still have time…”

“We’ll help you!” Portia says, looking determined. “If there’s any way we can, we’ll help. But for now, we have to get you out of here.”

You nod gratefully. “So what’s your plan? Does it have to do with that cart?”

“Oh!” Portia grins and claps her hands together, “So, you can’t go anywhere because your parents have someone watching you all hours of the day, right? Well, the first step _iiis_ …” She gestures dramatically to Asra. He chuckles, and pulls out a familiar jar of dirt. Like the first time he showed you, he blows some into the air, and the glamour falls over him like water. To your surprise, he looks exactly like you.

“While I move around the palace disguised as you,” he says, and it feels a little weird to hear your voice coming from him, “Muriel will follow me around so no one suspects anything.” He looks over to your bodyguard and smiles gratefully. Muriel just nods once.

“So, the cart…?”

Portia giggles and lifts up the table cloth revealing…nothing. “We’re gonna hide you in here to sneak you out! It’ll be a bit of a tight fit, but it should at least be enough to get you off the palace grounds. From there, you can sneak out into the city.”

Portia gives you a thumbs up and a wink, and Asra crosses his arms and grins. You’re suddenly filled with a rush of appreciation for your friends; they’ve put so much thought and effort into this plan, and that was before they even knew about Lucio’s scheming. Without thinking, you rush over to pull them into a group hug. Muriel takes a couple small steps away, but Asra reaches over to pull him into it as well. He reluctantly accepts it.

“Thank you so much, you guys,” you say, burying your face into the nearest shoulder. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Asra runs a hand through your hair, speaking with fondness, “Of course. Whatever you need.”

When the moment ends and you change into your disguise—Julian might know who you are now, but it still wouldn’t do to walk around the city in royal clothes—the four of you separate to begin the operation. It goes pretty smoothly for the most part, but there’s a terrifying moment when one of Portia’s fellow servants wonders what she’s doing with the cart.

“Uhh—the prince asked for a snack and I delivered one and now I need to take this back to the kitchen, goodbye!” and you almost fall out when she starts starts rushing and veers sharply around a corner. She’s a lot more stealthy after that, and you make it off the palace grounds without further incident.

“I have to return this to the kitchen before they get suspicious,” Portia says apologetically, “But you can make it to Ilya’s from here, right?” You nod, and the two of you split ways.

By the time you reach the clinic, you’re a little sweaty and panting from how quickly you moved. There’s no one in the lobby when you push the door open, so you call out Julian’s name. You laugh when you hear a surprised shout and a cacophony of falling objects. Maybe you could get him a bell for the door along with that couch.

“Come to my office, will you?” you hear him yell from deeper in the clinic. You follow the sound of his voice, and enter what must be his office.

It’s a relatively small room with a window on the left, bookshelves on the far wall, and shelves containing various raw medical ingredients on the right. In the middle is a desk, messy with a notebook, an inkwell and quill, some scrolls, and a few books. With a small curl of joy, you see that among the books on his desk are the ones you gave him so long ago. There's also a small chair placed before the desk that looks a little out of place.

“Welcome to my office, sorry about the clutter.” Julian is crouched on the ground, picking up some books that have fallen from the bookshelf, and he gives you a lopsided grin, “It’s an organized mess.”

“It’s fine,” you say, suddenly a little nervous. This room is a lot smaller and more intimate and personal than the lobby you’d grown accustomed to. It makes you think about that kiss, and you almost want to ask about it, but there are more important things to talk about right now.

But before you can get into it, Julian finishes picking up the books, and strides towards you. He practically tosses them onto his desk without looking, and when he reaches you, his grasps your jaw, turning your head this way and that, inspecting. He looks concerned and his voice is stern when he asks, “Are you all right?”

Confused and a little flustered at the close proximity, you ask, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Julian seems to relax and his removes his hands with a breathy laugh. “Thank God… I thought…” He straightens up a little and clears his throat. “I haven’t seen you in so long, I thought that maybe something happened—that you got in trouble, or maybe that Lucio found out we overheard him and did something to you, but…” He smiles, something small and tender and it makes your stomach flutter, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You grimace. “I’m sorry for worrying you. After the theft, my parents got freaked out and had me watched every time I left my room…”

“I see… Well, you’re all right, so it’s okay.” He turns around and heads to his desk, leaning against it and crossing his arms. He gestures to the chair in front of him, and you sit down. “So, I talked to my contacts in the palace. None of them have heard of Lucio’s coup, so he must be keeping it under pretty heavy wraps. I’m surprised we even caught him at all.”

“And I can’t just tell my parents because then they’d wonder about how I knew… So we’re going to have to get proof on our own…” You rub the back of your neck. “But I guess we weren't expecting it to be that easy.”

“Unfortunately. We’re going to have to come up with something. I doubt the courtiers will talk, and besides this Vulgora, we don’t even know who knows about it.” He huffs, “He might have some kind of paper evidence, but I don’t know how we could get our hands on it.”

“Like, in his office?” you hum in thought, “Maybe… What if you sneak in, like as a servant or something, while I distract him?” The thought of having to pretend to be interested in him again doesn’t exactly appeal to you—having to walk through the garden with him after the party was excruciating, he wouldn’t stop talking about himself and his many accomplishments nearly the entire time—but if that’s what it takes, you’ll do it.

“Distract him?” Julian frowns. “You mean you’ll…”

“Flirt with him probably, yes,” you say, groaning.

Julian averts his eyes and bites his lip. “Are you…sure there’s not anything else you can do?” He looks a little tense. You wonder if he’s asking out of worry for you. It’s reasonable; it is Lucio after all.

“I mean, I suppose I could try to think of something else, but it’s definitely the most efficient way, and I know it’ll work.” Julian purses his lips, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he gets back to his feet, and puts his hands on his hips.

“All right, if that’s the plan then, I’ll ask Pasha for help on the disguise front. When do you want to do this?”

“As soon as possible. We don’t know how much longer we have.”

“How’s tomorrow?” he asks. When you nod, he grins and raises a brow. “Another heist then, partner?”

A pulse of excitement runs through your body. _Partner_. You nod enthusiastically, not bothering to stop the giant smile spreading on your face.

By the time you remember to ask about the kiss, you’re already almost home, and with a curse, you swear to ask him as soon as you finish snooping in Lucio’s office.

 

* * *

 

Your heart is beating quickly and your stomach is curling with anxiety when you knock on Lucio’s office door. You chance a quick look at Julian waiting and watching behind a nearby corner. He nods confidently at you, the wavy blonde wig on his head bobbing just a little.

“Come in,” you hear through the door, and, taking a deep breath, you enter. Lucio’s office, on the whole, is immaculate and organized, but his desk and a fainting couch on the right side of the room are messy. His desk has two open books on it, and an uncountable amount of loose papers, while the couch has a pillow and blanket tossed haphazardly around with another pillow on the floor.

When he sees you, Lucio raises an eyebrow and leans back in his chair with a smirk. His golden arm is without its usual sharp adornments, more suited to the office work he’s doing. “Well, well, Your Grace, it’s an honor. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Good afternoon, Quaestor—uh, Lucio,” you correct when he narrows his eyes at you. “I was just wondering if you could take a break to, uh…have a friendly spar with me?”

It’s been difficult interacting with Lucio since the night of the party. You’ve always had a hard time around him, but now it’s even worse knowing he’s got plans to depose your parents (potentially _deadly_ plans). A spar was the only thing you could think of that would be a suitable distraction without giving him many opportunities to talk. Plus it’ll help you blow off some steam; you’re scared of him (this is a man ready to possibly murder for the sake of power), but you’re also furious (how dare he try and overthrow your parents?).

“Oh, I don’t know…” he drawls, folding his hands behind his head nonchalantly, “I’m a little busy right now…”

Is he really playing hard to get right now? That’s a first. You try not to let your irritation show on your face. “…Please?”

The speed at which he stands up from his desk surprises you a little. “ _Well_ , I suppose if the prince insists,” he says, striding around his desk and to the door. He trails his fingers over your shoulder when he passes you, raising goosebumps all the way up your neck. On his way out, he lifts up a large case you hadn’t seen on your way in. You take a beat before following him out, and as you make your way towards the training arena, you look over your shoulder and catch Julian sneaking through the door. He gives you a quick reassuring grin, then disappears inside.

 

When you get to the training arena, Muriel’s in the armory putting away a few newly sharpened and polished axes. When he notices you and Lucio enter, his brows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything and goes back to what he was doing.

“Go ahead and pick a weapon, I’ll match you,” you inform Lucio, gesturing at the many weapons lining the wall ranging from daggers to swords to spears. He doesn’t hesitate to select a bastard sword with a long hilt and simple but elegantly curved guard. He glances at you with a sly smile, and drops his case on a nearby bench. As you pick out a bastard sword yourself, you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He pops open the case and you see the plates and claws he usually wears. Of course, you think, strapping your sword to your waist, you’re not sure why you expected him not to use them.

“Hey, Muriel?” He looks at you. “Would you mind being the judge?” The begrudging expression he makes at that makes you think he’s going to say no, but after sending a dirty look at Lucio, he gives you a slow nod.

When you’re all ready, you head out to the arena, and you and Lucio move to stand a few feet apart. Muriel stays near the entrance to the arena and crosses his arms.

“Any rules?” Lucio asks, flourishing his sword with his right hand idly.

“No dirty tricks, sword contact only,” you roll your shoulders and get into a basic fighting stance, “fight to disarm. Is that all right with you?”

Lucio nods with a smirk and stops twirling his sword to get in a fighting stance of his own. It’s odd; his feet are spread evenly apart like yours and his sword is brandished out, but instead of keeping his left arm back and out of the way, he’s got it curled and partially raised. _Like a shield_ , you realize. You wonder if you should call him out for cheating, but decide it would almost be too much trouble than it’s worth. Besides, it’s not like he’ll actually hurt you.

…Right?

The brief feeling of cold dread distracts you just enough to miss Muriel’s, “ _Mark_ ,” and you’re surprised when Lucio charges you. You step back just in time to avoid his blow, and he steps back in turn.

The two of you begin circling each other, not daring to look away. But then he lowers his sword a bit, confusing you for a moment—until he lunges towards you suddenly, feinting left but quickly spinning to attack from the right. You parry his blows, and attempt to counter with a slash of your own, but he blocks it with his armored left arm. You move back before he can try anything with it.

Again, you begin circling each other, this time for much longer. As you eye each other, both tensed for any attack, Lucio starts taunting—or perhaps he’s simply talking normally and the adrenaline pulsing through your body is making you take it the wrong way. It’s hard to tell. “You’re not bad, Your Grace. A little defensive, though. And maybe a little…distracted?” He winks at you.

Is it only a taunt, or does he actually think he's teaching you something? Either way, he's clearly underestimating you. With only a grunt in reply, you try to surprise him by taking his bait and whirl towards him, aiming for the base of his blade to knock his grip loose. He moves too quick, however, and you only hit mid-blade. He slides his blade down to hit against your guard and pushes hard against you.

For a moment, you struggle against each other, both of you trying to overpower the other. You’re caught a little off guard when you notice Lucio’s still got overconfident smirk on his face, like he’s already sure he’ll win. It gives you a burst of determination strong enough to push him back a couple feet away with the sharp screech of metal on metal. You feel a burst of satisfaction at the startled look on his face. He doesn’t fall over, but he does seem somewhat ruffled now.

You only hesitate for a couple seconds before attacking him again. But instead of approaching directly, you remember a particular lesson of Muriel’s; you quickly somersault around him, jumping to your feet behind Lucio. He barely has the time to turn around by the time you’re up, and it’s too late when you’ve already shoved your blade through the curved edge of his guard. With a quick twist, the sword is wrenched from Lucio’s grip, and you throw it to the ground.

“The prince’s victory,” Muriel announces monotonously, uncrossing his arms. Lucio looks at you with uncharacteristically wide eyes and a dropped jaw, like he’s still trying to accept that you beat him, and so quickly. You smile at him; that’s what he gets for underestimating you.

Muriel sighs, and turns to leave the arena. You reach down to pick up Lucio’s sword and hand it to him. “That was a good spar,” you say, trying not to sound too prideful, “thank you for indulging me.”

Lucio looks down at the sword, then back up to you. “Indeed,” he says as he takes it, “but how about a rematch? Two out of three?” The smile on his lips is dangerous, and now that Muriel’s not here to observe, you’re hesitant to accept.

You’re about to open your mouth to reply, but someone clears their throat from the entrance of the arena. You and Lucio look over, and to your relief, there stands Julian, posture perfect and voice even when he says, “Your Grace, Praetor Nadia has requested your presence,” just as planned.

“Ah, I see, thank you for telling me.” You glance at Lucio, but he’s not looking at you anymore. His gaze is steadfast on Julian; he’s squinting at him and his smile has faded to a contemplative frown. Your stomach sinks. Does he recognize Julian? It’s been years and Julian’s disguise isn’t that terrible. But if Lucio is going to recognize him, he hasn’t yet. You’re not going to give him the chance.

“Well, Lucio, perhaps we can have a rematch another time,” you say, placing a hand on Lucio’s arm just under his shoulder to get his attention away from Julian. It works, and he smirks at you.

“Of course.” He takes your hand between his clawed fingers and presses a kiss to your knuckles. “Let me know when you’ve got the chance, Your Grace.”

A shiver crawls up your spine, and you nod, leaving as quickly as you can while still remaining casual. Julian follows on your heels before Lucio has another chance to scrutinize him. Luckily, the Quaestor doesn’t pursue you.

 

When you and Julian are safe through the door on the edge of the palace grounds leading to Portia’s cottage, you let out a sigh of relief, and Julian yanks off his wig. For a second, the two of you lean against the door, just waiting for your hearts to slow. But then Julian takes a few steps forward and faces you.

“So I didn’t find much in Lucio’s office, but I did find one thing. There was a note, stood out from the other papers in there, talking about meeting a contact at the Red Market.”

“Red Market?” You’ve never heard that name before. Is it outside of Vesuvia?

Julian snorts, and tries to muffle his laugh with a hand. “Of course, you’re the prince, it’s not surprising you don’t know.” He laughs again when you pout at him. “It’s a secret marketplace beneath the Coliseum. That place has been abandoned for years now, but there’s still people making use of it. It’s got lots of unique imports and, ah…forbidden items.” His grin turns sly, like there’s some inside joke you’re not getting. “But you should probably get back to the palace before someone notices you’re gone. I’ll tell you more about it when next we meet.”

He’s right, of course, but now that you’re alone with him and not in danger of getting caught, you want to ask about that kiss again. Groaning internally, you nod and give him a farewell before making your way back to the palace.

Maybe you’ll have the chance to ask him next time.

 

* * *

 

After Asra, Muriel, Portia agree to help you out of the palace once more, you meet Julian just outside the abandoned Coliseum. He dressed as normal, but to your surprise, you notice a sheathed cutlass hanging from a thin belt around his waist. You’ve never seen him with a weapon before. You know he's familiar with the use of swords, but you weren’t aware he actually owned one.

When he catches you eyeing it, he chuckles. “It’s just a precaution, my dear. The Red Market can be…dangerous at times. But don’t worry,” he grins and gives you a wink as he says, “I’ll protect you.”

The blatant flirt instantly makes your heart skip a beat or three, and you stare at him with wide eyes. You wonder if now would be a good time to ask about the kiss, but before you can, he seems to realize what he just said, and, cheeks red, he looks away from you and loudly clears his throat. “A-anyway, let’s go, we shouldn’t waste too much time.”

Julian leads you inside, and to the center of the large arena, where, after he kicks some of the dusty sand out of the way, there lies a large trap door. He opens it and you follow him down a long and slightly rickety ladder. It’s dark for quite some time, before suddenly opening up to a curved boulevard lined with various stalls, small storefronts, and doors to other establishments, all lit up with dim red lanterns. There’s a thin haze of smoke that pools along the floor of the boulevard, and you can’t identify its smell. You can feel the pulse of several magic items here, and you’re a little shocked at the number of them. Julian was right—the Red Market is full of many unique items.

The boulevard isn’t too heavily populated, but you and Julian still have a hard time maneuvering your way through the space. You have no idea where you’re going, though it seems Julian does. As you walk, he glances at you and starts talking quietly, “So, that note I found? It talked about a meeting here with a proxy of Lucio’s at a place called the Jagged Dagger. I've seen it, but I’ve never been inside myself.” He pulls you closer to him by the arm when you almost bump into someone. “Anyway, I’m not sure if Lucio’s proxy will be there or not, but if we’re lucky, we can pretend we’re here for whatever business they’re trying to conduct.”

You nod at him. “Sounds like a plan. So where is—?” You’re interrupted by the sound of a door being slammed open. A large woman hits the dusty cobblestone of the boulevard, and she snarls as she stands up and rushes back in through the door she was kicked out of. Above the door is a sign reading, ‘The Jagged Dagger.’

“Right there,” Julian grins at you, and opens the door for you when you reach it.

The inside of the Jagged Dagger is so musty and poorly-lit that it’s hard to see anything, but you can make out the dark shapes of tables and patrons of the establishment drinking at them. There’s also a bar adorned with a few candles and a couple more people, as well as a salty looking bartender stabbing the bar erratically with a rusty fork. It’s…an odd place, to be certain.

The woman you saw before is rushing another person, and she tackles them. They roll around screeching and scratching and biting, and you can’t help but watch them for a few moments with morbid curiosity. But Julian takes you again by the arm, and pulls you to a corner of the room where you can oversee most of the room.

“We have to figure out who Lucio’s contact is. Probably someone who’s acting shifty and paranoid; I know these types.” You both look over the patrons. …Most of them fit Julian’s description, and he chuckles awkwardly. “Well, maybe someone who’s _extra_ shifty.”

The two of you carefully examine everyone in the room. A lot of the occupants are drinking, and some are entirely passed out on their tables. But eventually you spot one man in the far corner who doesn’t have a drink, and he’s certainly got his eyes on anything and everything. You also spot something gold tumbling through the fingers of one hand as he anxiously fidgets with it. It’s not a coin, it looks more like…maybe a brooch of some kind? You nudge Julian with your elbow and point him out.

“Ah, now that looks like someone we’re looking for.” He grins at you, “Good catch.”

Julian leads you through the room, carefully avoiding any aggressive patrons, and you reach the man’s table. Once you’re close enough, you recognize the object in his hand; it’s not a brooch, it’s an insignia worn by the palace’s publicans. It must be an identifier for Lucio's proxy or something, because you’re certain this man is not one of them.

“What d’you want?” he asks gruffly.

“Business,” Julian leans forward so he can speak quietly, “We’re here for Lucio.” The man squints at the two of you before nodding shortly. He stands up and leads you to a door you didn’t notice before, leading to some backroom. There’s a small table and chair on one side, while the other is full of stacked barrels.

“Before we start talkin’…” the man starts as he turns towards you, “I’m gonna need that password.”

“Password?” you ask before thinking. You didn’t expect to need a password, and by the way Julian tenses, he didn’t think so either. But before you can think of anything to bluff with, Julian reaches down to his waist, quickly unsheathing his sword and aiming it at the man’s neck. The man clearly didn’t expect it and he freezes, his neck brushing the sword point when he swallows nervously.

Julian addresses you, but doesn’t look away from the man when he unclips a heretofore unnoticed length of rope from the back of his belt and hands it out to you. “Tie him up for me, will you?” You take the rope and Julian starts walking the man towards the chair until you can rush behind him and bind his wrists behind the chair back. Then you return to Julian’s side as he sheathes the sword. The man glowers at the two of you.

“So,” Julian begins, crossing his arms, “what business did you have with Lucio? Is he looking for something?”

The man scoffs, “Why should I tell you?” He doesn’t seem very intimidated.

“I’m a doctor,” Julian says, slowly cracking his knuckles one by one, “I know some creative ways to… _interrogate_ a person.”

Surprisingly, the man starts guffawing, and you and Julian give each other brief confused looks. Then again, Julian did sound a little more like an overdramatic villain than a professional interrogator. When he calms down, he sneers at Julian. “Woodwind instrument like you? You probably couldn’t even break an arm.”

Julian frowns and glares at him, looking like a particularly offended and ruffled cat, and, despite the situation and the reason you’re even here in the first place, you can’t help a small snort. The man doesn’t seem to hear it, but Julian looks at you with shocked betrayal.

“Can I give it a try?” you whisper to him with a smile.

Julian sighs and gestures to the man as he murmurs back, “The stage is yours.”

Taking a deep breath, you walk over to him and lean over the table with one hand on the table and the other on your hip. For a few seconds, you just stare at him, trying to channel Muriel’s intimidating aura, and when he seems to start getting uncomfortable, you try and affect Nadia’s dominating tone as you say, “The way I see it, you have two options. You _could_ stay quiet; maybe avoid whatever kind of punishment Lucio would give you for tattling. And maybe I’d call a bevy of guards down here and pin the blame on you.” The man’s eyes widen. “I can’t imagine anyone in the Red Market would be particularly forgiving of something like that.” You straighten up, smirking down at him as you cross your arms, “Or you could just tell us what deal you have with Lucio and skip town before he finds out.”

“…F-fine,” the man stutters as he glances away from you. “Lucio’s been after some of that fancy poison—y’know, from that flower? Deadly star-somethin’? Also been looking for some muscle. Couldn’t tell you why. Palace has guards, don’t it?”

You narrow your eyes at him when he doesn’t say anything else. “Is that all?”

The man jumps in the chair. “Y-yeah, that’s it! He was real hush-hush about it, that’s all he told me!”

With a huff, you turn on your heel and walk out of the room. You hear Julian following behind you, and ignore the man when he yells, “Hey! Aren’t you going to untie me!?”

You don’t look Julian until the two of you make it out of the Jagged Dagger, and when you do, his face is red and he’s staring at you with half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t say anything, and you feel a little sheepish all of a sudden. “What is it?”

Julian snaps out of it then, and shakes his head. “I-it’s, uh, nothing. You’re just, um…” he coughs a little into a fist, “Didn’t know you could be so…commanding.”

 

The two of you don’t talk much more on the way out of the Red Market, but partway to Julian’s clinic, you cut through an conveniently empty alley, so you start talking quietly to Julian about what you learned.

“If he needs poison, he must be planning on assassination,” you say, rubbing your chin in thought. “But what could he need the mercenaries for? If he was just going to sneak poison to my parents, there’s no point in needing anyone else.”

“Your parents…” Julian freezes suddenly as you near the exit of the alley, and you stop alongside him, raising an eyebrow.

“Is something wrong?”

He looks down at you, and sounds unusually panicked when he says, “Lucio might not just go after your parents. What if you’re one of his targets too?” His eyes narrow and he turns back towards where you’d entered. “We have to act now, we can’t just—”

“Wait, hold on,” you grab Julian’s elbow and lift your other hand placatingly, “we can’t just run in and accuse him. The word of one random guy we found in the Red Market isn’t good enough. Our proof has to be irrefutable.”

Unfortunately he only seems to get more upset. “He might try to kill you! How can I just stand by and let that happen?”

“I’m not dead yet,” you point out.

“ _Yet_.”

You ignore that. “Besides, I don’t think he’ll target me, just my parents; why bother flirting so much with someone you intend to kill?” you joke with a laugh.

Julian deflates and your hand falls away as he leans against a wall with a heavy sigh. He rubs at his face with one hand, and you can’t see what kind of expression he’s making. But then his hand drops, “You can’t… You can’t just ask me to risk that, my dear…” His voice is so soft, and he’s looking at you with such anguish and concern that your heart nearly stops. You knew he cared about you, but being faced with such a raw expression of it is…a little overwhelming. You don’t know what you intend to say when you open your mouth, but it doesn’t matter because you’re interrupted by a screeching caw zooming by. The palace guards.

It startles the pained expression off of Julian’s face. He grabs your arm and pulls you close against his chest behind a stack of old boxes, hidden away from any guards. Your heartbeat doubles in speed, and not just because of the danger of being caught by guards. Julian smells like freshly-polished leather and something vaguely sterile, and you can see his pulse pounding in his neck. He’s not looking at you but around the boxes, keeping an eye out for the guards, and the line of his jaw at this angle is sharp and fetching.

Again you remember to ask about the night of the party, and when you hear the clanking armor of the guards running past your alley and farther away, you ask him quietly, “Are we ever going to talk about that kiss?”

Julian tenses around you, and he instantly releases you to take a few steps away. He’s faced away from you when he answers, voice strained and a little nervously high-pitched, “ _Uhh_ , I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Then he dramatically spins to look at you. He’s wearing an obviously fake smile and blusters, too quick for you to get a word in edgewise, “Now! I’ve got to go to my clinic and look more into that poison. I’ve heard about it before, deadly starstrand, but I don’t know too many details about it other than it being devastatingly potent, and I’d like to see if it’s possible to make an antidote for it—can’t be too careful. I’ll see you another time, prince!” and with that, he speed-walks out of the alley before you can properly react.

For a couple minutes, you just stand in the alley, a little stunned at Julian’s quick exit. What kind of reaction was that? With a groan of frustration, you start heading back to the palace. You didn’t even consider the possibility that he would just dodge the question altogether. Is he just trying to avoid hurting your feelings? Is he just scared to admit how he feels himself? How are you going to get a straight answer out of him?

These questions hound you all day until you’re drifting off to sleep in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If any of you are curious about what Julian's cutlass looks like...[here it is](https://www.coldsteel.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/thumbnail/960x/17f82f742ffe127f42dca9de82fb58b1/8/8/88cs.jpg).)
> 
> Haha, this chapter almost ended with a terrible cliffhanger :^) Instead I just ended it on some painful unresolved romantic tension. Get ready for the thrilling conclusion of "The Doctor Thief and the Prince of Vesuvia" in chapter Ⅶ, Death!
> 
> (I might....come back and edit this chapter later, lol. Actually, I'll probably come back and edit the whole fic later. 😏 But I hope y'all liked it anyway!)


	7. Ⅶ - Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As everyone must face Death sooner or later, an important phase of your life is ending. But this isn’t the end; through death, a new life springs. Put the past behind you so you can boldly face the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah... I can't believe I've basically finished this fic.... I don't think I've ever finished a chaptered fic in my whole life LOL. My love for Julian is just that strong, I guess. :^)
> 
> There's gonna be a nice little epilogue after this! But on the whole, "The Doctor Thief and the Prince of Vesuvia" is.....done!!

Nadia has been a great help since you told her of your discovery. As you and Julian are still stumped on what Lucio’s plan could be, she seemed like a good person to consult, and she was trustworthy besides. Unbeknownst to you, she already had suspicions of Lucio, though she had no proof. You’ve not been able to have a full conversation with her about it yet, however. She’s been busy, and so have you, but you finally have found an opportunity to talk. Your normal luncheon may not be the most secure, but no one will suspect anything, and as long as you keep your voices down, you likely won’t be overheard. Besides, Nadia is perceptive; she’ll likely understand even if you keep things vague.

She’s a little late though. Or perhaps you’re early. Either way, you’re the on the veranda alone, enjoying the warm sun and cool breeze when you hear the clangor of metal hitting stone. You jump in your seat, looking around for the origin of the noise, and you see a four-pronged hook hanging from the rail of the veranda with a rope attached, and if you strain your ears, you can hear some grunts and, oddly, what sounds like footsteps approaching from below.

Before you can figure out what’s happening, Julian of all people reaches up to the edge of the veranda and hops over the railing. The triumphant grin on his face when he sees you is dazzling. You stare back at him in shock. How did he get here without getting caught? Why is he even here in the first place?

The first thing you want to say (“ _I missed you_ ,”) is pushed aside, and instead you hiss quietly, “What are you doing here? You could get caught!”

Julian just crosses his arms and gives a cocky laugh. “Please,” his voice is just as low as yours, “What did I tell you? I’m a professional.” He strolls up to the table, and leans his hip against it as he talks to you. “Anyway, business before pleasure and all that; I’m here because it’s been a while. I wasn’t sure if you’ve been too busy or if you’d gotten found out, and I didn’t want to wait around in my clinic, twiddling my thumbs, when I could come check on you myself.”

It’s true, you haven’t been able to get out for some time. Your aunt has had Asra too busy lately, and it’s too risky for him to try and sneak out of it, making it impossible to sneak out yourself. “All right. But you didn’t just come because you were worried about me, did you?”

Julian pouts. “Well, that was part of it. But I also came because we need to figure out what Lucio’s planning to do with his poison and those mercenaries. We don’t know when Lucio’s going to act. By the way, I think I may have a working antidote, but I’d need to test it to make sure.” He grimaces, “Of course testing an antidote for one of the fastest and deadliest poisons on the planet isn’t exactly something you can just _do_.” He sighs.

“Well,” you stroke your chin, “I was actually going to talk to Nadia about Lucio. That’s actually why I’m here now. She’s more familiar with him than I am, and she’s a very quick thinker. She might be able to figure something out.”

“Hmm, that could work. She _is_ the Praetor, so she at least has experience with conspiracies.”

The two of you contemplate for some time in silence before Julian huffs in frustration, “If only it were as simple as confronting him. Then maybe he would give a dramatic villainous monologue, and we’d have all the proof we’d need.”

You nod glumly before suddenly something occurs to you, and you snort and start giggling to yourself. Julian looks at you with a bemused smile.

“It wasn’t _that_ funny.”

“No, no,” you wave a hand at him, “I just realized that this situation is remarkably close to that play we saw together. The thief and the princess overhearing a plot to overthrow the kingdom and figuring out a way to stop it.”

Julian snickers too before suddenly choking on his laughter. He turns a brilliant shade of red, and avoids eye contact. You wonder why before you make the same connection he surely did; the thief and the princess ended up a couple, struggling with suffocating romantic tension throughout the entire play.

…Not unlike the kind you and Julian have.

You’re actually about to ask about it when, surprisingly, Julian speaks first. “A-about that… I’ve been…thinking, and… This is dangerous. It’s not entirely impossible that something could happen. Something bad. One of us could get hurt, or…” He trails off, but you know what he’s not saying. This plan of Lucio’s? Red Market mercenaries? An incredibly deadly poison? There’s no way this will be just a simple walk in the park. It’s possible people could die. …Maybe you or Julian. He looks at you then, eyes intent on you in a way that makes your breath hitch and your pulse quicken. “So… I wanted to say—”

He’s interrupted by the sharp clicking of heels heading towards your location. Whoever it isn’t in view yet, and it’s possible it’s just Nadia, but you don’t want to risk it. You get up and start shooing Julian towards where he came from. “You have to get out of here, we can talk later!”

Julian resists you at first, biting his lip as his eyebrows furrow, but eventually he gives up and starts hopping the railing again. But before he climbs down, he grabs your hand. “We have to talk about this. About, you know…that night. Us. Everything. Not now, but soon.”

He sounds so determined that you’re a little confused. Where did this confidence come from? Is he really that afraid of what could happen? But you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and nod at him with a smile. “Soon.”

With that, he starts climbing down, and just in time. You turn to face the visitor just as they show up. When _he_ shows up. You’re hit with a bolt of irritation so strong you’re a little startled at yourself when Lucio makes his grand entrance with a flourish of his cape.

“Your Grace,” he greets. You’re only _barely_ able to restrain yourself from reacting visibly. On top of your usual impatience with him, he’s still a threat to your parents _and_ he interrupted Julian before he was finally ready to talk about your relationship.

“Quaestor Lucio,” you say in return with a nod. You take your original seat, and he sits before you. A servant you hadn’t noticed follow him in sets down tea for the both of you. Why is Lucio even here? Where’s Nadia?

As if he read your mind, he says, “Noddy is a little late. She got…caught up.” The smirk on his face as he says this is suspicious, but you’re too frustrated to think about it too much. “I decided to keep you company,” he adds, crossing his arms behind his head.

“…Thanks.” You hide your frown by taking a sip of the tea before you. For some reason, Lucio is silent after that. He stares hard at you, smirk getting more shark-like by the second. It’s unnerving, but you try not to let it get to you.

“So, what is it keeping Nadia?”

…is what you _attempt_ to ask. What comes out is a soft grunt as you’re suddenly struck with terrible dizzy lightheadedness. You try to press a hand to your head to steady yourself, but all it manages to do is knock you off balance. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve been poisoned, if you were wrong, and you _were_ one of his targets all along. But you can’t think for much longer. You don’t even feel it as you fall out of your chair and hit the ground, but you do hear the sound of Lucio laughing maliciously before you lose consciousness.

 

* * *

 

When you wake up, the first thing you notice is how cold you are. You shiver, and you feel a slight ache in your arm and shoulder. That’s when you remember what happened; Lucio, the tea, passing out. You _must_ have passed out, because you’re certainly not dead. With a start, you push yourself up to a sitting position, ignoring how drowsy you feel, and examine your surroundings.

You are currently in some kind of thin cotton cot on the floor of a stone and iron-wrought room. It looks unused, old, and musty, and there are cobwebs woven in all the corners. Your wrists are manacled, and the metal is sturdy, if slightly rusted, along with the chains. The chains are relatively long, but are still attached to the wall behind you. You can move about the room, but you can’t reach the solid door on the far side, let alone leave through it. There’s also a small window near the ceiling to the right that you could probably barely reach up to. It’s much too small for you to fit through, though, even if it weren’t barred.

This place is utterly unfamiliar to you, but that’s not surprising. You have no idea where you are or the circumstances in which you were taken here, but there is something you know for certain; whatever Lucio’s plan was, it’s begun. And somehow, you’re involved in it. You slam your fist against the cot.

“I think ‘e woke up,” you hear faintly from the thin slot in the door.

“Why, did you hear somethin’?” There’s an affirmative grunt. “Doesn’t matter. Lucio said he’s s’posed to stay in there.”

“Hey!” you yell at them, getting to your feet. “Let me out of here!” Of course they ignore you. You hardly expected them to listen, but it was worth a shot. You groan and run a hand through your hair. How are you going to get out of this?

Then you hear a familiar clacking of heels, followed by an overly smug, “I need to talk to him.” There’s some clinking noises, the screech of metal, and there he is: Lucio.

Driven by pure instinct, you rush towards him. But, of course, the chains stop you before you can reach him, nearly wrenching your arms out of their sockets. He cackles. “Did you actually think that would work?” You scowl at him, and he crosses his arms. “I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on.”

“No, actually,” you grit through clenched teeth, “I already _knew_ you were planning something.”

“You knew, but you didn’t tell anyone?” he asks with mock surprise, a hand over his open mouth, “Could it be you actually _want_ me to rule Vesuvia?” He smirks again, “You could rule it with me, if you wanted. As long as you stayed obedient, anyway,” he says with a laugh.

“No way! Not in your life!” It’s getting difficult to reign in your emotions, especially when every time you react to him he seems to get even more amused.

He snorts. “Well, if you say so. I guess I’ll have to stick to my original plan.” A reply is on the tip of your tongue when you register what he said. His plan… Now could be your chance to finally find out what it is.

“And what _is_ your plan?” You try not to sound too eager. If he thinks you’re just trying to get information, he might not tell you.

“Oh, sheer _elegance_ in its simplicity,” he begins with a flourish of his golden claws. “A message to the Count and Countess; give me control of the sovereignty and I will release your son. Refuse, and I’ll kill him.”

You hate to admit that it’s a sound plan. As far as you know, there’s nothing that they treasure more than you. They’ve kept you locked up for most of your life to protect you, after all (though a lot of good that did when one of their own courtiers kidnapped you). It wouldn’t be surprising if they chose to sacrifice the entirety of the city for you. However, they are still rulers of it, and they aren’t completely incompetent at their jobs; there’s always the chance that they won’t give in. …It’s not impossible that you could die here.

Julian’s words from before come back to you. About the danger, about how something bad could happen, about how you needed to talk before then. It’s with a heavy heart that you realize that you may never get the chance to have that talk.

You clench your teeth and glare at Lucio. You have so many different vitriolic words to give him, but you’re done letting him goad you into saying any of them.

“Oh, have I ever told you how cute you are when you’re angry?” he snickers and turns on his heel. “Unfortunately, I have other business to attend to. I’ll let you know when your parents have decided your fate.” He smirks and winks at you before leaving, iron door shutting loudly behind him.

With a deep breath, you walk to the nearest wall, the one with the small window, and slump against it, cradling your head in your hands. Alone with your thoughts, now knowing what Lucio’s plan was all along, you can’t help but think of all the ways it could’ve gone differently, all the things you could have done to prevent this. If only you’d tried harder to get in touch with Julian. If only you’d told your friends earlier about what Lucio was doing and had longer to figure out his angle. If only you’d paid closer attention to how odd Lucio’s sudden appearance was, how out of character Nadia’s tardiness was. But thinking about if-onlys and what-could-have-beens won’t help you. You’re not sure anything can help you now.

And now Lucio is going to win; even if your parents somehow decide to sacrifice you for Vesuvia, the decision will ruin them. Lucio would have an easy time deposing them and taking the city for himself. But there’s a higher chance they’ll fold before that, and give him the sovereignty to save you. You groan and run a hand through your hair. If you had any hope before of getting out of this intact, it’s gone now.

What a rotten situation.

But then you hear a familiar cawing racket outside the small window above you. Could it be…? You jump to your feet and stand on the tips of your toes to look out of the window. And just as you suspected, it’s the warding raven (what did Julian say his name was? Malak?) screeching at the small window of your cell. You can’t see much outside of the window but yellow sandstone walls and a ring of compacted sand. It looks familiar but you can’t place it. It’s of little consequence, however; what’s more important is that Malak, for all of his faults, is an intelligent bird. He probably hates the palace guard too much to get their help, but maybe you could get him to show Julian where you are.

“Malak,” you say, hushed so the guards can’t hear you, “listen to me. You have to find Julian and lead him here for me. Can you do that?”

Malak tilts his head at you and just stares for a few seconds before letting out another caw and flying off. You feel a little more confident now. If Malak can just find Julian in time, then maybe you can stop Lucio after all. While you wait, you sit against the wall again, preparing yourself for what will surely be a dramatic escape.

 

* * *

 

You don’t know how long it’s been since Malak left, but the sun is still shining through your little window. You’ve gone through several possible scenarios; how you’ll find your way out of this dungeon, what to do if you get caught, what you’re willing to do—what sacrifices you’re willing to make—to get the both of you out safely. Luckily, whatever drug Lucio had used to knock you out has worn off, and you’re no longer tired. In fact, your body practically thrums with power, both physical and magical, and you feel ready to face whatever gets in your way, especially with Julian by your side.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a distant cry of, “Someone help!” With a start, you jump to your feet, the first shots of adrenaline running through your body. You hear the two guards outside your door quietly muttering to each other, though you can’t quite make out what they’re saying. Eventually there’s the sound of one pair of footsteps rushing away. One of the guards must have left, while the other remains guarding you.

For a minute, you’re still, listening as close as you can for anymore disturbances, and then you hear a loud slamming noise and a yelp. Footsteps follow, then the grunts and clashing metal of a fight. It ends on a loud groan, and another thud. In the silence after, you notice your breath has quickened and your heart is pounding with nerves and excitement. Did Malak come through? Is Julian here?

There’s the clinking of metal at your door, and you can barely hear the scraping of metal on stone when the door opens and you see him, slightly flushed and panting from exertion, but there, and none the worse for wear either. At the sight of you, he grins and strides towards you. You can’t help but smile back, and when he finally comes within reach, you throw your arms around him, squeezing with all your strength. He wheezes in surprise, then chuckles.

“Well, _some_ one’s excited to see me,” he comments before hugging you back as much as he can with his arms trapped by his sides. You don’t reply to him immediately, you just bury your face into his chest trying to take as much of him in as you can before you have to leave. Unfortunately, you do have to part, but you don’t move far from him.

“Thank you for coming for me, Julian,” you say.

His gaze turns soft, and he replies a little quietly, “Of course. We’re partners, aren’t we?” Again, your heart warms at the word ‘partners.’ He reaches into a pocket and pulls out what looks like a small lockpick set. You hold your wrists up for him so he can get at your manacles, and he starts working on them.

“So, I kept track of how to get out of here. It’s not exactly a labyrinth, but there’s a lot of twists and turns. We’re in the Coliseum dungeon.” So that’s why the outside looked familiar. “The mercenaries Lucio hired aren’t very smart, but they can pack a punch, so we’d best be careful on our way out. The more we can avoid a fight, the better.”

“Did you see Lucio anywhere on the way in?” you ask.

Julian frowns and glances at you nervously. “…No, I didn’t. I didn’t even know he was here.”

“He was earlier.” You sigh, “I don’t know if he’s still around. He could’ve left, but we should still keep an eye out for him.” Julian nods, and with a final click, the manacles fall from your wrists. You rub the sore skin there. “By the way, he told me what he's doing. The poison and mercenaries…they were for me; he's ransoming me for the city.”

Julian glares as he puts his lockpicking set away, but you know it’s not at you. “You know, in hindsight, it’s almost obvious.” But then he sighs and gestures towards the door, and the two of you make your way out of your cell.

“All right,” Julian starts moving down the hall, keeping his steps light, “follow me, and stay close.” You see the unconscious form of a mercenary on the floor outside your cell, and another at the end of the hall. These must’ve been your guards.

You heed Julian’s instruction as you make your way out of the dungeon. There are some mercenaries making rounds, and they seem much more alert and difficult to evade than the servants at the palace the night of the party, making you equally as tense. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you’re still almost caught a couple times.

And then you _are_ caught. You both make a turn into a short hallway at the same time as a mercenary appears at the other end, and after registering the two of you aren’t comrades, they rush towards you. Julian unsheathes his sword to parry their coming blow, and they exchange blows. Julian possesses more finesse, but the mercenary makes up for it in brute strength. In time, you’re sure Julian could win, but this isn’t a simple fight—you’re here to escape, and this clash is certain to draw attention the longer it goes on.

You take a deep breath, and summon your magic to the forefront. The spell you cast at the mercenary when they’re far enough away from Julian is technically meant to be a shield, but with enough velocity and density, it acts as a wave of force that knocks them clean off their feet and into the wall. They gasp as they hit the yellowstone bricks, and when they hit the ground, they’re out like a light.

Julian looks from the knocked out mercenary to you with wide eyes. “Huh. That’s pretty handy.” You can’t help but laugh.

After that, you continue on, moving more cautiously, but slower. You’re beginning to sweat despite the relative coolness of the dungeon. Julian seems to be relatively fine from your position behind him, but every now and then you see the tension and worry on his profile while waiting for a mercenary to pass. He’s as anxious as you are. In a way, it’s slightly relieving—or perhaps, emboldening. It reminds you that you’re there to protect him as much as he’s there for you.

You both stop so Julian can peek around a corner. When he turns to check on you, you smile at him, trying to convey calm, and after a moment, he smiles back. He still looks stressed, but at least he isn’t as on edge as before.

It’s not much further that you finally make it to the exit. You turn into another hall and see a small room with a short staircase leading up outside. The sunshine lighting the room is much brighter than the torchlight you’ve been moving through, and it’s a relief to see. Even better, as far as you can tell, there doesn’t seem to be any more mercenaries between you and the outside.

You nearly sag with relief and Julian shoots you a quick grin, and you quicken your pace. Once you’re outside, you should be home free. Even if there are more mercenaries outside, it’s easier to run from a fight in the open space and huge entryways of the Coliseum than the close quarters of the dungeon.

Yes, your heart is light and steps confident as you enter the small room before the archway. But of course, your luck was bound to run out sooner or later.

You and Julian are barely a couple steps in before you see, coming down the stairs, Lucio, in all his ostentatious splendor. He’s smirking as usual, and he’s got a sword at his hip, the one with the elegant black guard that you recognize from your spar. Was he expecting you to escape? How long has he been prepared for it?

He didn’t seem to expect who your rescuer would be, though. When he notices Julian, he’s a little thrown off. “Jules?” he scowls, “What are _you_ doing here?”

Julian sneers at him, but you can tell how rigid he is in Lucio’s presence, “Isn’t it obvious? I’m saving the prince.”

With a scoff, Lucio withdraws his bastard sword, twirling it in his hand pretentiously before getting in his unusual fighting stance. “I’ve been planning this for too long to let some _hack_ spoil it just before the good part.”

“Then it seems we’ve reached an impasse.” Julian mirrors him, and though his posture is steady, his hands are not. Is he scared of Lucio? You can’t help but wonder what happened in their past to make him so.

For a few moments, Lucio and Julian just glare at each other before they both lunge towards each other at once.

Unlike when you sparred with him, Lucio is in it for the kill. His attacks are lightning quick and relentless, and Julian has little time to block and parry, let alone get any hits in on his own. Lucio fights like a berserker, like it’s kill or be killed, and it’s clear early on that, while skilled in his own right, Julian is outmatched.

Any hits that Julian manages to slip in are swiftly blocked by Lucio’s plated arm. Julian lacks the same armor as his opponent, and before long, Lucio leaves a gash in Julian’s sword arm. He quickly leaps back to give himself the opportunity to switch hands, but Lucio follows him, and it’s back to Lucio’s onslaught against Julian’s desperate blocking.

You feel helpless. You want to use the same spell you used on the mercenary before, but Julian is much too close to Lucio, and he would get caught up in the blast. There’s not much offensive magic that your aunt or Asra have taught you, and no spells that you can think of that could help in this situation.

Except… There is one thing you could try. If you can ignite your hands and get close to Lucio without his notice, maybe you could burn him and divert him from his assault, giving Julian an in. It’s risky, but it’s the only thing you can think of, and Julian is running out of time.

You call up your magic again, heating your hands to a searing temperature and begin slowly circling behind him. Lucio gets in another hit on Julian, nicking his shoulder, and the pained noise he makes almost provokes you into rushing Lucio, but you continue your pace. As much as you want to protect him, you can’t risk getting Lucio’s attention. When you’re finally close enough, you dart your hands out, one towards his flesh-and-blood right arm, and the other to the back of his neck.

As you hoped, Lucio is certainly startled. But instead of dropping his guard, he reaches behind himself to grab your wrist with his clawed hand. Your breath is taken from your lungs as he yanks you around in front of him, and in your disorientation, the heat in your hands disappears. His sword is at your throat before you can think, and Julian freezes, looking between you and Lucio in alarm.

“Let him go,” he demands, tightening his grip on his sword, but his voice entirely lacks confidence. It’s the most scared you’ve seen Julian since you met him, and with a painful twinge in your heart, you realize that this is exactly what Julian was so desperately afraid of in that alley the day of your investigation. You hate that you’re the one that put that expression on his face.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Lucio replies, deriding. Behind you, he reaches into his pocket, then holds a small vial of a light blue liquid between two clawed fingers in front of your face. You have no idea what it is, but it seems Julian does, because he gasps and immediately starts moving forward.

“Lucio, don’t—!”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Lucio reaches up to open the vial. The scent floats to your nose, and it smells like rotting flowers and rust. Is this the poison Lucio had been looking for? Julian stops in his tracks. “How about this? _You_ drop your weapon and leave Vesuvia, and _I_ won’t kill our little prince, hm?”

Julian’s face twists, conflicted. You know what he’s thinking; he doesn’t want to leave you with Lucio or the citizens without a protector, but you’ll be killed if he doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve this, to have to make this choice. The Count and Countess, too. Hand over the sovereignty, or you’ll be killed. Your parents shouldn’t have to make this choice either.

You or the people. The prince or the countless citizens of Vesuvia.

Ever since you met Julian, since you realized how much you didn’t know about what common Vesuvians went through, you’ve vowed to yourself over and over that when you become Count, you’ll do right by them. You wouldn’t value the nobility or coin over the commoners, you would always remain loyal to the people, you wouldn’t make decisions that placed you above everyone that called this city home.

You’re not going to break that vow now, no matter that you’re not the Count.

You swallow and take a deep breath, mustering up your courage. Then you smile at Julian, trying and failing to hold back tears. “Julian… It’s going to be okay.” That stricken look on his face shifts into confusion, brows furrowing even as his eyes remain wide and panicked.

“What are you…?”

“I love you,” you say before you lose heart, “Never forget that.” And then you snatch Lucio’s wrist, and pull it close enough that you can take a sip of the poison.

Behind you, Lucio chokes out a stupefied, “ _What_!?” while Julian cries out your name. In his moment of weakness, you shove your heel into Lucio’s foot, making him stumble back. Then you spin to face him, and blast him with a shockwave so strong that when he hits the wall, chunks of brick come down with him. He doesn’t get up after that.

You hear Julian call out your name again, and when you turn towards him, you’re hit with a sudden vertigo at the same time your legs go weak and you can’t keep yourself standing anymore. Julian catches you, though, and he desperately digs into a pocket for something. What he pulls out is a bottle full of a translucent white liquid, and he shakily uncorks it.

“Darling, I need you to drink this,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady as he holds the bottle against your lips. Your thoughts aren’t making sense anymore, and you can’t feel your extremities, but you manage to do as he says, even if a couple drops of the liquid spill out through the corners of your mouth.

The last thing you’re aware of before everything fades to darkness is Julian crying and how sad the vision makes you.

 

* * *

 

When you wake up, you feel worse than you’ve ever felt in your entire life. You feel like you’re on fire just as much as you’re freezing, and like you could puke at any second. Your head is throbbing, your eyes and nose are painfully dry, and every muscle is sore. You feel like some kind of plague victim. Are you dying? Is this what dying feels like? Maybe if you get up, you’ll feel a little less like garbage.

Fortunately, it works. Sort of. Your body still hurts and you’re still a little nauseous, but your temperature starts evening out the longer you stay sitting, and your eyes and nose return to normal. That’s when you start looking around to figure out where you are. To your relief, it’s somewhere familiar. It’s Julian’s clinic, and you’re in the bed you woke up in the first day you met him. It’s sunset, and the setting sun casts the soft warm wood of the room in pink and orange. It’s very beautiful, and you take in the view outside the window for a few minutes.

But then you remember that you actually should be dead right now. The thought nearly makes your heart stop. Why are you still alive? Did the poison not work? And what happened with Lucio?

You’re startled when you hear a loud clatter to your left. When you look over, you see Julian standing in the doorway with wide eyes, and there’s a wooden bowl on the floor, water splashed beneath it. The wet rag that must’ve been inside it is still in his hand, but he drops it too, and rushes to your side. Supporting himself with one knee on the mattress of the cot you’re in, he envelops you in an all-consuming hug. As you hold him back, you realize that he’s shaking.

“ _Thank God_ you’re all right, I-I thought you were going to die,” he babbles into the top of your head, “It seemed like you _did_ die for a moment, I thought I’d lost you—but the antidote _worked_ …”

You laugh weakly, “Thank you for saving my life.” You squeak a little when his hands fist in your shirt. When he pulls away, he gives you a scolding look, but it’s ruined by his ruddy face and the tears pouring down his cheeks.

“Why did you even do that in the first place? I went through all that effort to save you, and then you almost kill yourself!”

You wince. “I… I didn’t want to make you have to pick between me and Vesuvia. My parents, too, I… Vesuvia deserves better. It deserves better than Lucio, and it deserves someone like you that protects and cares for them.” His face softens at that and he shuts his eyes when you cup his cheek. “It’s too painful of a choice, so I made it for you. I’m sorry.”

“…I can’t stay mad at you, but,” he opens them again and simpers, “please don’t ever do anything like that again.”

“I’ll try my best,” you say, beaming up at him. “By the way, what happened to Lucio?”

Julian grins, but it’s sharp and humorless. “To be honest, I was tempted to kill him. But I’m not like him—I’m no murderer. So…” he snickers, “I had Romeo and his crew hogtie him and leave him outside the palace, while I came here to tend to you.”

You can’t help laughing at the mental image that pops into your head at that. Hopefully your family and Nadia will give him the punishment he deserves. Now that you think about the palace, you realize you should probably go home, everyone is probably worried sick. But…

But you don’t want to leave Julian so soon. The Lucio crisis is over, you survived one of the deadliest poisons in the world, and now you’re alone with him. He’s nearly in your lap at this point, and you haven’t removed your hand from his cheek. The longer you stare at each other in silence, the higher the tension raises. Not the dangerous kind like you felt in the dungeon, but the kind that’s making your heart flutter and your face warm. You brush your thumb along his cheek to clear away the tear streaks, and he nuzzles just slightly against your hand, eyelids drooping just a fraction as his brows draw up.

You both speak each other’s names at the same time. Then you both try to apologize, and you laugh bashfully. Julian laughs a little along with you, but soon falls silent. Then he makes this tiny pathetic little noise in his throat and moves his arms up to wrap around your neck as he leans down to kiss you. You kiss him back with no hesitation, and when you take his lower lip between your teeth, he whimpers and you laugh into his mouth.

The two of you kiss for a few more minutes before you have to separate so you can take full breaths. But you don’t move far from each other, and Julian’s fringe tickles your cheek. The intimacy of the moment keeps your voice low.

“I can’t believe you made me wait so long for this.”

Julian chuckles, “I’m sorry. But I don’t think I could’ve stayed away from you for long if I tried. Even so… I’m bad luck. I’ll be terrible for you.” He says that, but he’s still smiling.

You give him a quick peck, “You’re not terrible. You changed my whole world, you showed me things I’d likely never see,” you kiss his cheek, “You’re caring, and funny,” you kiss his jaw and he shivers a little, “and cute. You’re just right for me, Julian, and…” you make eye contact with him before you say, “I wasn’t lying when I said I love you. I do. I hope… I hope I can be just as good for you as you are for me.”

To your surprise, instead of saying anything, more tears well up in Julian’s eyes. He swallows and sniffles, and reaches up to wipe his eyes. You snicker and kiss his forehead. When he’s done wiping his face, he leans in to give you a quick kiss.

“You already are,” he interrupts himself to kiss you again, this time for longer, “Good for me, that is. Before I met you, I thought all I was good for was patching people up and being some wannabe thief. I thought I’d go along with that until I slipped up, got caught, and got hanged.” He smiles a little self-deprecatingly, “After all, people like that only get happy endings in plays. I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

Julian looks away from you then, staring out the window contemplatively. He’s biting down on his lip, so deep in thought that you hardly breathe in an effort not to interrupt him. When he starts speaking again, you give him your undivided attention.

“Then you came back. Even after I pushed you away, you saw something in me that was worth…” His fading blush revives, “worth staying for. I didn’t understand you at first. All the times you came just to see me, all the gifts.” He grins playfully at you, “It was adorable, by the way. I didn’t think I was worth all those gifts, but I have to admit it was pretty flattering to be courted by someone so naive.”

Your face burns with heat at that. “C-courting—?” How long did he know…?

Julian starts snickering, “I didn’t think it was serious at the time. Not until the… Well, the night of the party.” He looks a little morose suddenly. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

Shaking your head, you reply, “I understand why. And honestly, I’m the one who should be sorry; you didn’t lie about who you were the entire time we knew each other.”

Julian huffs a laugh. “Well, you certainly proved yourself. You could’ve just given up then. It might’ve been simpler for the both of us. But again you came back. You knowingly helped a thief steal from your own parents just to prove you cared.” He purses his lips and raises a brow at you. “Has anyone told you how doggedly persistent you are?”

“Yes,” you say with a giggle, “Tilde did. She told me you’ve ‘never been able to resist those types.’”

Julian clicks his tongue, unamused. “She was unusually invested in our relationship from the beginning. I need to have some words with her.”

With a smile, you press, “Our relationship?”

“A-ah, right…” he bites his lip, “Well, she wasn’t wrong. You are amazingly stubborn, and I… That’s just one of the things I love about you.” Your heart skips a beat and you unconsciously clench your hands in the back of his waistcoat. “…I love you, too, darling. And I want to be with you, if you’ll have me.”

You can feel his hands trembling against your back. He’s nervous. Despite already knowing how you feel, he’s nervous to bare his heart to you. It feels like you’ve been given a gift much more fragile and precious than anything you’ve given him. And yet, your chest feels like it’s being crushed with the weight of it. It takes a few moments for you to find the words to reply to him with, and he looks more nervous every second you don’t answer.

“I—”

“Of course!” you finally blurt out, much too loudly. He lets out a surprised and relieved laugh, and you groan with embarrassment. “Of course I do,” you correct your tone, “Whatever you want, just ask and it’s yours.” You pull at his arm so you can reach his wrist, and you place his hand over your chest, “You already have my heart.”

Julian makes a sort of strangled noise before stammering, “O-oh, uh…” You grin at his own embarrassment, to which he raises a brow and murmurs, “Very suave,” even as his cheeks are bright red.

You lean in close, nudging your nose against his. “I wonder where I got it from.” Then you kiss him, pouring all your emotion into it, feeling impossibly warm when he matches you perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AGAIN, there's gonna be an epilogue after this! Chapter Ⅷ (the Epilogue!), The Lovers, coming soon!


	8. Ⅷ - Epilogue - The Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trust and harmony that the Lovers share gives them the strength to push on through even the roughest times; their love motivates them to work toward a bright future, one in which they'll never be apart.

It’s been a few months since Lucio was arrested. Hell hath no fury like overbearing parents, and there was definitely talk of a hanging. In the end, though, it was decided he would imprisoned—for life. It was a satisfying conclusion all around. Now your life is mostly back to normal…with some exceptions.

“They _threatened_ him?” Portia questions, laughter coloring her words.

You snort. “Well, not exactly, but Asra talked about ‘all the interesting things you can do with magic’ and Nadia about the ‘various types of punishments for slights against the sovereignty—the prince included,’ then interrogated him on his intentions with me. Julian was terrified afterwards, needless to say.” You chuckle and take a sip of your tea, “They’re just worried about me. And do I appreciate it. I just wish it didn’t come in the form of intimidating suitors.”

Portia laughs giggles and sets her teacup down on the table. “Speaking of that boneheaded brother of mine, the last time I saw him, he seemed very distracted; kept walking into door frames and overflowing cups and staring into space.” She squints at you, smiling coyly, “Somehow, I get the feeling it has to do with you. What’d you do to him?”

 

* * *

 

There was a heist you did with Julian just a couple days ago. Some paranoid noble who had both guards and security dogs, with a gauntlet of traps covering the floor of the mansion containing her treasures and, according to an inside source, something having to do with some suspicious dealings. It sounded like a challenge, dangerous and exciting, and when Julian had told you about it, he had a daring smile that was utterly charming. Even if you _didn’t_ already want to go, you couldn’t say no to that face when he invited you.

Getting in wasn’t particularly hard. There was a balcony on the second floor that was just close enough for Julian to toss his grappling hook to it, and the two of you had simply climbed in. Sneaking up to the third floor where the treasure lied was also a cakewalk, as the entire floor was empty—the noble and her family were out to some late night party.

As you navigated the third floor, moving slowly and keeping your eyes open for traps, Julian began telling a story from the time he’d accidentally stayed the night in your room recently.

“I was already mostly awake and thought I should probably leave, but your sleeping face was too cute and it would’ve been such a shame not to give it the appreciation it deserved.” He flashed you a grin and a wink that made your cheeks warm. “But then Pasha came in and said it was time to get up, and I assume she hadn’t seen me, because when I did get up, she nearly screamed.” Julian stuck an arm out to stop you, and snuck over to the wall to start disarming a wire trap. As he worked, he continued, “She told me to get out because you had a tutor coming soon, and it would be ‘poor form’ to get caught.” He snickered, “Honestly, I’m surprised you slept through the whole thing.”

“I am, too,” you said with a quiet laugh. You were suddenly hit with a burst of affection for him. How can one man be so adorable? You were tempted to inform him of this lovable trait of his, but he finished disarming the trap, so you continued on.

The vault was quite easily discerned. It had a large brass door with three separate locks, and Julian unlocked the first two before turning to you with a smile. “Want to learn how to pick a lock, darling?” he asked, holding out two tools to you. You blinked at the lockpicks then at him.

You shrugged. “Why not?”

Julian walked you through the process, and while you almost broke one of the delicate tools, you successfully pulled it off, and when you looked up at him, beaming proudly, he laughed and kissed your forehead. You returned it with a kiss on the lips, and your attentions were thoroughly diverted for a couple minutes before you broke apart to return to the task at hand.

Inside the vault was dark, so you created a small light to illuminate the contents. The room was smaller than the door suggested, and only contained a single small desk with a large chest on one side, and a large journal with a sheaf of papers atop it. Julian went about examining the chest for traps while you looked over the papers and journal.

The papers didn’t contain much. They seemed to just contain schedules of meetings with this or that person, recurring around once a fortnight for each. The journal was _far_ more interesting—or perhaps the proper word was incriminating. There were records of various deals and contracts with the same people listed on the schedules. Normally it wouldn’t be very suspicious, but the terms of the contracts were wildly uneven, and most were essentially requests for large sums of money in exchange for what was only loosely described as ‘protection.’ It was extortion, plain and simple.

You released a short sigh, and turned to Julian, giving him a brief summary of what you discovered. He pinched the bridge of his nose and asked, curtly, “Is that enough proof to prosecute with?”

“It is.”

“Then bring it, and let’s go,” he said, throwing his sack of goods over his shoulder.

The good mood from earlier was a little soured, but not as much as it could’ve been had the noble’s evidence been insufficient. Even so, it was a little too quiet as the two of you escaped. As you made tracks from the estate, you wondered if there was something you could say to lighten the mood.

“When I become Count, I won’t let anyone get away with things like this. Maybe you can become Count Consort and help me figure it all out.” You looked over at Julian, and he was slyly grinning down at you. You just knew you were about to be teased, but you were relieved to see him smiling again.

“My, my, Your Grace,” he drawled, “are you asking me to marry you?” He followed the question with a laugh.

Your heart stuttered in your chest and you felt your face burning. Marry Julian…? Just the idea of it filled you with giddy delight, and you barely restrained a giggle. Marrying Julian, being able to see him every day instead of having to sneak out every time, sleeping beside him every night, showering him with gifts and sparing no expense—

You didn’t realize you’d stopped walking until you heard Julian say your name. Shaking your head a little to clear your head, you looked up at him and smiled a little shyly. “I mean, I guess I am. If you want to. Will you marry me, Julian? I suppose we would have to wait a while, and I’d need a ring, but…”

Julian’s jaw dropped and he stared at you with wide eyes, brows nearly at his hairline. You were a little nervous that maybe you’d asked too soon, but then he loudly cleared his throat and stood up a little too straight. When he spoke, his voice was a little squeaky, “U-um, yeah, sure, I’m, uh… I’m all right with that. I-if _you_ want to.” He was avoiding eye contact and his face was bright red, and he was so cute that you couldn’t keep yourself from kissing him if your life depended on it. When he kissed you back, it was hesitant and gentle like it was the first time he’d ever kissed someone, and again you felt like you were going to implode with how cute he was.

“Thank you,” you said when you pulled away, cupping his cheek, “I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy.”

He shakily nodded and placed a hand over yours. His voice was soft and fond as he murmured back, “Of course, my dear… I’ll do whatever I can for you, too.”

Julian seemed a little dazed as you continued making your way to your separation point. At one point he tripped completely on air and nearly fell into a canal. You were barely able to catch him in time, and he apologized, only to walk into a lamp post a minute later. When you split up, Julian taking the money and you taking the extortion evidence, you were a little worried about him. Hopefully he’d be okay on his way home.

Still, you could understand how he felt, though. It was a little hard for you to think about anything other than your future together, too.

 

* * *

 

“Oh. I hope that means he’s happy,” you mumble, dragging a finger along the edge of your cup.

“I mean, he had this dopey smile on his face the whole time. What happened?” she laughs and starts taking another sip.

“Well…it’s probably because I asked him to marry me.”

Portia spits out her tea. “You _what_!?” You only start giggling in reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... It's hard to believe that this fic is officially done now.
> 
> I just want to say, to everyone who supported me throughout this whole thing...thank you. Thank you _so_ much. This fic has been really important to me since I started writing it, and as much as I'll miss it, I'm even more relieved to be finished with it. It was both a lot more work than I expected as well as a lot less, somehow! (To be honest, though, I don't think I'm 100% finished! I'll probably go back and rewrite some parts eventually! I also need to draw new illustrations for the chapters since I deleted a bunch, heheh.)
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it, and thank you for reading!! 😊 It was as much for y'all as it was for me!
> 
> Also, a special thanks to my friends Alistair and Ashley for being so damn supportive of me the whole time. I love you guys 😭💕


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